The Truth Behind a Mask
by deadlyxchagrin
Summary: Max Connors has never been ordinary. She's a girl with a mission, one given to her by Lord Voldemort. But Max holds secrets, so what will happen when her past finally catches up with her? Will all hell break loose?
1. The Fabulous Life Of

The wind blew into a large green room, dancing around the green drapes and around a young girl's pretty black hair. Her eyes fluttered open as she glanced around her own room, dreading the day before her. With a dead mother and a hating father, life was pretty bad for Max Connors. Of course, now it would be different. This year was Max , Max was to become a Death Eater. Hopefully this would please her father, and if not, then she was seventeen and could go live alone.

Max was of course, in Slytherin. She had been given a chance to enter Ravenclaw, but denied it, wanting to please her father. She remembered that day ever so well.

_Max woke up, ready to start her first day at Hogwarts. She yearned to please her father, Nate Connors. He wanted a boy as a child, but his wife bore a girl. So Nate had killed his wife, yet kept the daughter. He felt that his master would have some use for her, even if he did not. Max had attended a small muggle school. She only had one friend there, but it hurt to much to think about him, so she ignored that fact that she would miss him and prepared for her new life as a Slytherin._

_"You know you would do well in Ravenclaw," The sorting had droned on._

_"No, I want to be in Slytherin," Max thought. The sorting hat agreed, seeing that Max's character fit the house perfectly. Max smirked before jumping off the stool, not even bothering to glance back to see her best friend being sorted. _

Max shook her head. She didn't need to dwell on what happened seven years ago. Max climbed out of bed and combed her hair. Then she prepared for her journey to Hogwarts, with no idea that this year would change her life.

"It's sickening" Pansy Parkinson said, sneering at Draco Malfoy flirting with some tramp.

"Aw, come on, no one really cares. I sure don't. Malfoy could rot in hell and I would be laughing" Max said, smirking in his direction. She had always hated Malfoy for some reason. He was arrogant and cocky.

"Oh, come on, don't be jealous!" Mercury McGovern said, smirking.

"Yeah, Max, loosen up!" her sister, Mercedes added. Mercury and Mercedes were the Slytherin Gossip twins. They knew everything about everybody, except Max. Nobody would ever know about Max's secrets, not even the ones she shared them with.

"I am loose. You just need to get a life!" Max sneered, pushing Mercedes into a door of the train. Max sneered and flipped her hair, smiling in a very fake way.

"Smooth." Pansy said, though no one was sure who she was talking about. No one cared. That was normal, though. If you were in Slytherin you only cared about yourself. Now, I'm sure you are all expecting me to say Max Connors was different, but she wasn't. Max Connors was a typical Slytherin girl.

"Aw, now that's gross!" Max said, sneering in the direction of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley in a lip lock.

"Please, get a room, lock yourselves in it, and never come out! No one wants to see your ugly faces, especially when they are stuck together!" Mercury yelled. Max laughed.

"I wouldn't be talking!" Ginny said, removing her lips from Harry's.

"Ginny, leave it, they aren't worth it." Harry said, pulling her away from the girls.

"What does he mean we aren't worth it?" Pansy asked.

"It means he is too scared to fight us." Max laughed.

"You are so right! Come on, let's go find Blaise or somebody." Mercedes said. The girls nodded and walked off with her. Max sneered, but glanced back and Harry who was now talking with Ginny. Max's sneer fell as memories of her past flooded back to her. Of course he wouldn't remember. None of them do.

"What are you staring at, Connors?" Harry asked.

"Nothing that concerns you!" Max yelled, turning around to follow what was as close to a friend as she was going to get. Harry shook his head, not recognizing the lies. Harry, nor anyone else, could see the truth is Max's heart. It was like she was wearing a mask, and when she looked in the mirror she saw The Slytherin Queen. Not even Max could remember what she was like, seven years ago.


	2. Shake It Off

"Harry

"Harry?"

"Harry?"

"Harry!!" Ginny sighed and sat back in her seat, glancing at her boyfriend who was staring out the window. It had been like this ever since Dumbledore had died. Harry was distant, and seemed distracted most of the time. Ginny had convinced him that breaking up was no help, and he gave in, so they had gotten back together. Ginny wondered how Harry didn't go crazy. Ginny knew that the relationship was on the rocks. Harry was just so distracted, so torn up inside. Ginny still stayed with him, supporting him, knowing that if she left it would tear him up.

"Harry, you have to stop thinking about him," Ginny said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not thinking about him," Harry mumbled. Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"Harry, I know how you act when you think. I know your thinking about something important, or devastating," Ginny said.

"I'm thinking about Max," Harry said, not facing Ginny. Ginny furrowed her brow.

"Why? She's just another Slytherin," Ginny asked.

"When I looked her in the eye, I guess, I saw something different. I saw something I recognize. I saw someone I recognize. I just, don't know who," Harry said, glancing at Ginny.

"Harry, of course you recognize Max. She's been in Slytherin since first year," Ginny said, laughing a bit.

"It wasn't Max, though. It was someone much different," Harry said.

"Harry, please, you have enough on your mind. She's just another Slytherin." Ginny pleaded.

"I know, but why was she looking at me?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. Maybe she works for Voldemort. Maybe she was looking at you because you're the boy who lived. Maybe she was caught up in her own hate for you," Ginny said.

"I don't know. I just know there is more to that." Harry said.

"Harry, please, it's nothing and I don't know why you are getting so worked up over it." Ginny pleaded.

"Gin, you just don't understand!" Harry shouted.

"Aw, is the golden couple having a fight?" someone said from the door.

"Malfoy sod off." Ginny said.

"I saw you talking with Max, does Pothead fancy her?" Malfoy teased.

"Yes, that's exactly why we're fighting. Are you happy?" Ginny said sarcastically. Malfoy tensed up.

"Just stay away for her. You don't know what she's capable of," Malfoy said.

"Oh and you do. She hated you!" Harry said, finally speaking.

"She hates you too," Malfoy said.

"What's the big deal. Max Connors is just another Slytherin prick with no heart. Let's just get over her and move on with our lives," Ginny said, getting frustrated

"Stay out of this Weasel-bee," Malfoy sneered. Ginny gritted her teethe.

"I'm going to go find Ron and Hermione. You two have fun," Ginny said, getting up and pushing Malfoy aside, walking out the door. Malfoy left after her, leaving Harry alone. Ginny walked down the hall, getting rid of her anger. Why was he thinking about her? She couldn't understand it. Ginny saw Max with her friends, smirking.

"You!" Ginny yelled.

"What do you want?" one of her friends asked.

"Max, stay away from Harry," Ginny ordered.

"Okay, like I ever went near him before," Max said. "I mean who would want to?" her friends laughed.

"Look, you glanced at him and now he's all worked up over it. He's got enough on his and doesn't have to deal with you! Now Malfoy is involved too! Just leave us alone! You aren't involved with any of us. You don't even know Harry! Your just a stupid Slytherin!" Ginny yelled.

"If your brain wasn't that of a fly's who'd know that there is a lot more to me that stupid Slytherin. But sure, I'll stay away from your precious boyfriend," Max said, glaring at Ginny. Ginny stepped back.

"Gin, what are you doing?" Ron's voice came.

"I was just taking care of something. Let's go," Ginny said, flashing a fake smile at Max, who sneered. Ginny walked away with Hermione and Ron.

"What happened?" Hermione asked. Ginny sighed.

"Harry and me were," she paused.

"Were what?" Ron asked. Ginny made a hand movement.

"Ew Ginny, I did not need to know that! Ew! He's my best friend! Ew that is wrong on so many levels!" Ron yelled.

"Ron shut up!" Hermione scolded.

"Well Max and her Slytherin junkies came up and we started fighting, just like we normally do. They left after a while and Max looked back. Harry got a worked up about it. He says that he saw someone different, someone he knew. I don't know where he would have seen anyone that remotely looks like Max, though," Ginny said.

"Why does he care?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know. I left. I bet it was just Max trying to get into his head. She probably wants to distract him so Voldemort can," Ginny stopped talking. Everyone knew what she was going to say.

"I'll talk to him," Ron said. Then he went to go find Harry.

"He'll catch up!" Hermione said. Ginny sighed.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Harry has just been different. I wish it were like it used to be, last year. I wish he'd pay attention to me," Ginny said.

"Gin, you know I'm not good with guys, but Harry's been my best friend for seven years. I don't know what this whole thing with Max is, but he'll get over it. Just give it time. This is typical Harry. I know he loves you, he just isn't very good with girls and showing it. Another typical Harry," Hermione said, smiling.

"Yeah, the great thing about Harry is he's easy to read," Ginny laughed.

"It's great to have you hanging with us more often, now. I need another girl around," Hermione said. Ginny laughed.

"Especially with my brother," she said. Hermione laughed as they left to join Harry and Ron.

"Ginny told me about Max," Ron said.

"Oh," Harry said.

"Harry, don't obsess over it. She's probably just trying to get in her head so Voldemort can be Voldemort," Ron said. Harry laughed at Ron's way for words.

"You're right," Harry said.

"Plus, Ginny is worried. I trust you, but she's still my sister, so you need to be a better boyfriend," Ron said. Harry laughed.

"What's so funny boys?" Hermione asked, walking inside.

"It's a guy thing," Harry said.

"Oh, so now there's guy things!" Ginny said, sitting down and pecking Harry on the cheek.

"You have no idea how wrong that sounded," Hermione said. They all laughed.

"Are you okay?" Ginny whispered in Harry's ear. His stomach did a flip as her breathe his cheek. Harry nodded, kissing Ginny on the lips. Ginny smiled. It was going to be a very interesting year.


	3. Mad World

Max sat curled up on the Slytherin couch, reading a book

Max sat curled up on the Slytherin couch, reading a book. She wasn't really reading it, though. Her mind was off into a different land, one she found herself visiting very often.

"What are you reading, Connors?"

"Go away Malfoy," Max said, keeping her eyes lazily on her book.

"What? I want to know what you are reading! It could be on I am interested in," Malfoy said, smirking. Max sighed. She really didn't want to have to deal with him right now.

"I didn't know you could read," Max said, still not looking at him.

"You know, you and I aren't that different. IN fact, we're more alike than you think," Malfoy said, sitting down next to her. Max laughed coldly.

"What kind of crazy idea is that?" Max asked.

"Just because you hate somebody doesn't mean you can't be like them," Malfoy said. Max put her book down and looked at him. She examined the features of his face. His smirk planted on his lips, his falling over his icy eyes.

"What makes you think you know anything about me?" Max said, her jaw set in a stubborn lock.

"I notice things," Malfoy said, shrugging it off. Max smirked.

"Well, if you are so smart, what do you and I have in common?" Max asked.

"Well, we are both Slytherins. We are both destined to be death eaters, we both don't want to be like that, but can't resist being perfectly imperfect Slytherin arses," Malfoy said. Max's stomach twisted.

"What makes you think I don't want to be a death eater?" Max asked. Malfoy smirked, placing an arm around Max.

"Seven years ago I heard the hat say you would have done well in Ravenclaw. You told him no, you wanted to be in Slytherin to impress your father. Yet another thing we have in common. We both strive to make our father's care, but can never manage," Malfoy said. Max shook his arm off her shoulder. "The point is that no one who wanted to be a death eater could even think about Ravenclaw," Malfoy finished. Max stared at him.

"I have no desire to listen to you. I know that this whole speech of yours is just a trick. I'm not falling for it," Max said. Then she got up and walked up the stairs.

"Don't hide it from me. I know more about you than you think. You are lost, Max Connors. I want to know why." Malfoy said. Max turned to look at him one last time.

"I don't care. Nobody does. You, me, and the rest of the world are going to just have to deal with that," Max said, staring him in the eye. His eyes were an icy blue. The pierced her soul and Max couldn't help but feel exposed around Malfoy. He acted like he knew her, but he didn't, did he? He couldn't. He wouldn't. He can't. Max shook her head.

"I'm going to go to bed. Maybe by tomorrow you will be back to normal and you can hate me again," Max said.

"Oh, but Max, I don't hate you," Malfoy said. His voice was so sarcastic that it was almost sincere. You could never tell with Malfoy.

"Are you on drugs?" Max asked.

"No," Malfoy replied.

"Would you like me to prescribe you some?" Max asked, before finally escaping to her room.

--

"Where were you this evening?" Mercury asked. Pansy and Mercedes turned from their exploding snap game to listen.

"I was with Ferret Boy," Max said, sneering.

"Why?" Mercedes asked.

"He was talking to me about stupid stuff. He made me sound like a Gryffindor," Max said, shivering.

"Ha! That is hilarious. You would never have anything to do with those freaks," Mercury said, laughing.

"Duh," Max said, nodding. Mercury was cool. She had died her hair red and was probably Max's best friend. Her sister, had brown hair and was a bit overweight. She hung out with Pansy the most. They had all packed together, though.

" don't know. Malfoy knows things. He could be right," Mercedes said.

"Since when do you agree with Malfoy. You've been hanging Around Pansy too long," Max said, pushing Mercedes against a drawer.

"Yeah, gosh, why do you have to be to fat?" Mercury said. Mercedes just sneered and went to bed. Slowly everyone followed. Max couldn't sleep, though. Malfoy's word's kept ringing in her head. _We're more alike than you think._ It was just Malfoy being an ass, right? Right. How was it that everything he said was true, though? Max needed to stop thinking about it. She was a Slytherin and she didn't care. Mercedes was also getting to her. She wasn't like the Gryffindors, but there had to be some similarities. It was a mad idea. Then again, it fit just perfectly into this mad world Max was living in.


	4. Soup Cans

"I cannot believe the nerve of them," Max said

"I cannot believe the nerve of them," Max said.

"I know! They think they are so cool, but they aren't!" Mercury said.

" Your sister can't insult either," Max said, smirking. They were poking fun at Pansy and Mercedes. Pansy had asked Draco out and he turned her down. Then Mercedes asked Malfoy out and he turned her down, but she told the rest of Slytherin that he said yes. Pansy got pissed and now they are both in the hospital wing.

"I want to know why Malfoy turned both of them down." Mercury said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Uh, maybe because they are ugly butt wipes," Max said, raising an eyebrow. Max and Pansy were close friends, but this was Slytherin. Talking crap about someone behind their back was considered normal.

"Still, Malfoy will go with anybody who will take him. He just wants a good snog. Why would he say no? Mercury asked.

"Maybe he just wants to show that he wouldn't sink that low," Max said. She knew she was running away from the truth, but she didn't want to believe it, not matter what Mercury said.

"Or he fancies you. He wants you," Mercury said, smirking. Max got that trapped feeling. Her stomach twisted. It happened a lot when you were in Slytherin. The nature of a Slytherin is to be cold hearted and impossible to beat. Sometimes, though, you would get this feeling that you couldn't get out of something. They were pressuring you into do something and in the end you knew you would lose. It was horrible and bad for one's ego. It was life, though, and Max had to struggle to overcome the feeling and win.

"That's bull. We've been enemies since first year. He hates me almost as much as Potter," Max's stomach tightened at the mention of him. She shouldn't of brought him up. Though Mercury was the best of the three girls that were Max's friends, they were all Slytherins, and technically no one had friends. Anything that had to do with Potter was gross and not to be discussed unless it was crap about him.

"Exactly! You are the only one he knows he can't have. Naturally, he wants you. He just can't show it. Plus, Potter is a guy and a Gryffindork. You are a sexy girl in Slytherin. There's a big difference," Mercury said.

"Well, I guess I'll be the first thing Draco Malfoy wants, but doesn't get," Max said, smirking. Her stomach loosened and she cheered silently in relief.

"He won't take that well," Mercury said. Max laughed.

"Good," she said. "Let's go to class,"

--

It had been a week since school started and the teachers had already had enough of Max Connors. Max was loud and sarcastic. Not even the teachers could tell her what to do. They yelled and took points, but never gave detentions. It was a goal to stay as far away from Max as possible. Even Snape just ignored her snide comments. He didn't take points, though. Max was still a Slytherin and he favored her. It was like soup cans. Slytherins, no matter who you were, were always thought of as the same. Max didn't care. No one cared about what stupid Gryffindorks thought.

"Ms. Connors, _please_ pay attention," McGonagall said. Max smirked and acted fake studious. To be honest Max maintained A's and B's. You didn't want to be too smart, though. If you were you'd be like mudblood Granger. It seemed like to be in Slytherin, you had to act perfectly. It was lucky that it all came naturally to Max.

--

Ginny kissed Harry lightly on the lips as she said good-bye. A week into school and her relationship with Harry was going greatly. He had stopped worrying about Max Connors and seemed a lot happier that Ginny was around. It was perfect, except for the fact that Dumbledore was dead. Harry was beginning to get over that too, though. br

"Harry, you can't keep her so disconnected," Hermione told her best friend.

"I have too. I don't want her involved," Harry said.

"She is, though! She's been involved since her first year!" Hermione said. Harry looked down. Hermione sighed. It was going to be a long year.

"Why are we always with the Slytherins?" Harry whined.

"They actually haven't been that bad this year. I guess after Dumbledore died they want to keep a low profile," Ron said.

"I doubt that. I can never listen in lessons because Max and Mercury are always talking!" Hermione said.

"Aw, poor Hermione," Ron said, mocking her.

"At least I can manage good grades, while what's the highest you get?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not stupid," Ron said, glaring at his best friend.

"Oh, look, it's the mudblood and traitor!" Pansy Parkinson said, walking up with Mercedes. They had just gotten out of the hospital wing. Harry didn't know why, but he didn't really care.

"Oh why don't you just run back to Malfoy," Hermione said, sneering. Pansy and Mercedes were quiet, not knowing how to reply.

"Uh, Mercedes, why are you talking to them? There are much better people to speak with," the other McGovern sister said, walking up and tugging Mercedes away from the golden trio.

"Like who, you?" Mercedes asked. Pansy smirked, but Mercury just smirked.

"So you would rather be with a mudblood then your sister. Wow, no wonder Malfoy turned you down," Mercury said, shaking her head. Mercedes stumbled with her words, trying to think of a comeback. She couldn't, though. Mercedes had pulled herself into a trap. Mercury laughed.

"Come on, Max is probably wondering why we are here. At least _I_ don't want to be seen around Griffin freaks," Mercury said, dragging Mercedes and Pansy away.

"Why do we let Max rule our lives?" Pansy asked.

"For obvious reasons," Mercury said, sneering. Hermione sighed.

"I'm glad I'm not in Slytherin," she said.

"Yeah, they are even terrible to each other," Ron said. Harry just stared. Five minutes ago they were worried about Ginny. Now, he just looked at Max laughing and poking fun at Pansy. He was almost in Slytherin. He was almost with them. He wasn't, though. He refused to allow it. But now, he wondered what it would be like to lead a life like Malfoy's. Because Harry could have easily lived his life instead. That didn't mean he wanted to, though. Harry hated Slytherins and what they stood for. He hated how they were so mean to their friends. Harry was thankful for his own friends. As class started things didn't look at bad as before. At least Harry wasn't in Slytherin.


	5. Circle of Friends

"I've got nothing to wear!" Pansy's shrill voice said as she threw a shirt to the ground. Max rolled her eyes and set her book down.

"You can look in my trunk and borrow something," Max said. She watched Pansy smirk and walk over to the end of Max's bed, pulling out a green shirt. Pansy held it up to herself, then furrowed a brow.

"What's this?" she asked, pulling out a trunk made of the same mahogany that was in Max's room at home.

"Nothing," Max said quickly. "If it was of your business, don't you think I'd tell you. Put it back. I said you could borrow some clothes, not go through my trunk. Who are you trying to impress anyway?" Max asked, covering up her worried ness. Pansy dropped the chest on Max's bed and Max leaned over to pick it up.

"Blaise. He invited me to go to Hogesmead with him and Draco. I'm bringing Mercury too," Pansy said. Max nodded, tracing the snakes carved into the wooden chest with her finger.

"Where's Mercedes?" Max asked, looking up.

"She's in the Library, but should be up soon. I'm leaving. Bi," Pansy said. Max rolled her eyes as Pansy walked off in an attempt to be sexy and seductive, but failing miserably. Then Max turned back to the chest. If anyone where to know what was inside she would be in big trouble. A Slytherin could not have a weakness like this. It was too Hufflepuff. Max locked the chest with a spell and leaned over, dropping it in the trunk again.

"I hate McGonagall," Mercedes said, coming inside and dropping her bag at the floor.

"I don't care," Max said. Mercedes snarled before rolling her eyes and turning to her trunk, pulling out some make-up.

"Whatever, Max," Mercedes said, applying some mascara.

"Well what did you expect?" Max asked. Mercedes didn't answer and Max smirked. After a while Mercedes spoke again, pretending what just happened didn't happen.

"What are you doing today?"

"None of your business," Max said, staring out the window.

"Well, since Pansy and Mercury are out, we could do something instead of just sitting here fighting," Mercedes said, leaning against her bedpost.

"Fine. Come on," Max said, rolling her eyes and getting out of bed. Mercedes followed, knowing if she didn't she would be in trouble.

"Hey Max," Flint said, smirking. "Why aren't you with Malfoy?" he asked. Max snarled before turning around and sitting down in a chair. Mercedes smirked and sat down with Max.

"Poor Flint. His teethe are big enough to chew up a hippogriff," Mercedes said, loud enough so Flint could hear. He turned around and glared at Mercedes.

"Poor Max, has been forced to hang with such poor people as McGovern," Flint said. Max smirked.

"Well, Flint, just doing a good deed," Max said, standing up. She walked over to Flint and placed her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his.

"Can't give all Slytherins a bad name," Max whispered in his ear. Then she blew into it, letting go of him and walking off without looking back. All the time there was a smirk on her face. Mercedes followed after her, smirking as well.

"That was bloody brilliant. You should have seen Flint's face," Mercedes said.

"That is why it pays to be sexy. It's a shame you'll never be able to experience it," Max said, looking at Mercedes in disgust. Mercedes didn't answer.

--

Mercedes and Max were sitting in the Great Hall, playing wizards chest when an owl flew in.

"Hi, Falcon," Max said, taking the letter and petting the owl, smirking. Falcon flew off as Max opened the letter.

_Connors, I think it's time we had a talk. I haven't had a serious talk with you in so long! Meet me in the second corridor, fourth floor, empty classroom. I'll be there at precisely eleven tomorrow night. I will wait only fifteen minutes for you to arrive, no shorter, no longer. If you find this time is not fit, leave a message at the three headed statue by tonight at twelve. Please give me a better time for us to meet. Glad we could talk. _

The letter was not signed and Max had no idea who it was from, but she intended to find out.

"What is it? Mercedes asked.

"A letter," Max said, giving her a fake smile.

"What does it say?" Mercedes said, correcting herself.

"That is none of your business," Max said, tucking the letter away and getting up. As Max looked back she winked at Flint, making him turn away from her. Max walked off laughing.

"What's so funny?" a voice said, stepping out of the shadows.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Blaise?" Max asked. Malfoy shrugged.

"I ditched,"

"That's nice Now leave me alone," Max said, punching him in the arm before walking off. She was anxious to find out who sent her that letter. It sounded like her father, but he had never done something like this before. Then again, never before was she being forced to be a follow of Lord Voldemort.

--

Max walked into her room to see Pansy on her bed with the chest, trying to unlock it.

"What the hell are you doing?" Max yelled.

"Finding out what you are hiding," Pansy said, standing up. Max glared at Pansy before punching her right in the nose. Pansy started crying and held her nose as she ran off to go tell some poor soul. Max picked up the chest and threw it at the wall.

"Screw you," she said, It had only made a loud noise. How could something so little, so simple, so unimportant and stupid become such a big deal?


	6. The Other Side

"What the crap are you wearing Pansy?" Mercury said, raising an eyebrow at Pansy, who was wearing a bunch of crappy pink jewelry.

"Clothes," Pansy replied.

"Sorry, but I think that's just a little more then clothes," Mercury said, sneering.

"Oh, these!" Pansy said, showing of the beads. "These are from Draco. He is just so sweet and really cares. He's not trying to buy me, but trying to show he cares and I just love him so much! Her is so…"

Max put her finger in her mouth and made gagging motions. Mercury laughed and then turned back to Pansy.

"Hate to tell you this, but he just doesn't care," Mercury said. Pansy clenched her jaw and looked down. Mercury always had a knack for making people feel hurt and angry. Oh well.

"Mercury!" yelled Mercedes, catching up with the three of them.

"What?" Mercury asked.

"Mum and Dad sent up some crap," Mercedes said, throwing her sister a package.

"Nice," Mercury said. Max raised an eyebrow and kept walking. Mercury and Mercedes stayed behind having some crappy sister moment while Pansy followed.

"Something wrong?" Pansy asked mockingly.

"Yeah. You're here," Max replied, not moving her head.

"Well _I_ figured out what your secret is!" Pansy said. Max rolled her eyes. She was in a bad mood and tired.

"What?" she asked, ignoring her anxiousness.

"You are jealous!" Pansy said, smirking.

"Of what?" Max asked.

"Of me and Draco's developing relationship!" Pansy said.

"Wow big words, but no. I am afraid not," Max said. Pansy raised an eyebrow but before she could speak Mercedes and Mercury came back.

"Oh my gosh, I heard these Ravenclaw freaks talking about how they love this school and are so depressed this was their last year! It's only the beginning and I personally want out. This school is the worst ever. It's so bad, I can't even think of an insult for it!" Mercedes ranted.

"I don't really care," Max said, but she lied. In a year she would be able to leave her father. In a year she would be a death eater. In a year, everything would be different.

They walked down the hall in silence, until Max bumped into somebody.

"Watch it!" Max said, but she was suddenly reminded of an old memory, one she had forgotten until now.

_Max Connors left for her first year of school trying to look and feel confident. Inside she was a nervous wreck, but nobody had to know that. Nobody ever would. Max was five, but was a very stubborn five year old. She walked the halls of school with confidence and the impression she made on the teacher was one not many would be proud of. Max was, though. It's what she wanted. Though some people were scared, others admired her for it. Still, Max didn't have many friends. _

_She traveled around as recess simply making small talk. Suddenly she bumped into somebody. _

_"Watch it!" she said, sneering. The boy backed down and Max smirked. Some boys laughed as Max walked away, kicking him as she left. _

"Aw shit, it's Pot head and the gang!" Mercury said.

"Oh look, it's those Slytherin freaks. They think they're so good. There lives are just _so_ easy!" Harry said, glaring. It seemed he was looking specifically at Max. At first Max thought it would just be another stupid insulting fight that lasted a minute. This time it was different. Max was caught off guard and filled was rage at his comment.

"Go. To. Hell," she said in a dangerously low tone. No one had ever heard her speak like that. Even her fellow Slytherins were afraid. People had come to watch as Max glared holes into Harry's whole body.

"What?" Harry asked, looking scared himself.

"Just shut the hell up!" Max screamed.

"I-" Harry started, but Max didn't listen.

"You have no right to say that! You have no idea what it's like! Yeah, your life is so hard! No parents! At least they loved you! You have no idea what's it's like to live with someone who wouldn't mind if you were dead! You have no idea what it's like to strive to impress your own father and he just crucio your ass! You have no idea what it's like to know nobody cares! You might have some crappy fate that includes dying, but at least you have a chance! I have none! Eventually I'll fail and Voldemort will kill me. You know what? I don't care! You go do what you want. Just know that you aren't the only one with a crappy life," Max ranted, glaring and sneering at him. When she was done it was silent. Just about everyone was scared, knowing she could blow up again.

"I didn't," Harry started.

"No one cares," Max said. Harry opened his mouth again, but Hermione stopped him.

"Just don't Harry," she said, softly tugging on his arm.

"Just don't Harry!" Max said, mocking Hermione. "No I'm serious. Listen to the mudblood. Get out. Go home. Go rock your own boat!" Max said, smirking. Mercury started laughing and even Mercedes found it funny. Pansy still didn't understand, though.

"Trust me, Harry, you don't want to know," Ron said, pushing Harry away. With that they were gone.

--

"Wow, Max, for minute there, even I was scared. Why did you blow up like that?" Mercury asked.

"I don't know. I just really don't like Potter," Max said, shrugging.

"One thing is for sure, he is defiantly leaving us alone from now on!" Pansy said, laughing.

"You got that right," Mercedes said.

"Yep! Thanks Max!," Mercury said, punching Max in the arm.

"Eh, it was nothing. He got it coming. I feel proud giving it to him," Max said. Everyone laughed and Max simply shook her head at how easy it was to please these people.

"OH, Drakie is here! I have to go. I bet he's been missing me!" Pansy said, smirking and getting up to got attempt seducing Malfoy.

"Ew," Max said as we watched Pansy place her arms around Draco from behind. She rubbed his chest and smirked, catching Max's eyes and raising an eyebrow. Max raised an eyebrow back, mocking Pansy who sneered and turned her attention to sucking Malfoy's neck. Max shook her head and turned back to Mercury and Mercedes who had apparently been watching the whole event.

"What the hell was that about?" Mercury asked.

"No idea," Max lied.

--

Harry walked away from Max a bit confused. He realized there was a lot more to her then what he thought. He realized that there was another side. Now, all Harry had to do was figure it out. The only problem was, how? Hermione and Ron would probably ignore it and wouldn't help. Ginny defiantly would not help. She had been worried over Harry and wanted to distract him from everything that wasn't school or herself. She needed to back off. Harry could take care of himself and he didn't need her all the time.

"I heard about what happened," she said.

"Great," Harry said sarcastically.

"Don't listen to her. She's just angry," Ginny said.

"I know. I know," Harry said, smiling. Ginny laughed and rested her head on Harry's arm.

"I love you, Harry Potter," she said lazily, almost half asleep. Harry looked down and smiled, a wonderful feeling overtaking him. Yet, Harry could not bring himself to say it back.


	7. Mystery Malfoy

The moonlight shone into the Slytherin Seventh Year Girl's room. It lit up the green curtains with a radiant glow, now that the lights were gone and the giggles had died down an hour ago. The room reflected off of two grey eyes, staring out the window. The clock beeped quietly as the red lines made an eleven. A quiet rustling sound was made, followed by a quiet pitter patter as the covers were pushed back and two feet made there way across the floor.

"What are you doing?" Max froze, like a deer in the headlights, and her eyes scanned the room to find out what the noise could be. They landed on something that looked like a vibrant red rat's nest, slightly hiding a pale face. Max narrowed her eyes.

"That is none of your business." Mercury raised an eyebrow.

'"Really? Because you know I'm a prefect…"

"You wouldn't dare!" Max said, placing her hand on her wand.

"You know I would," Mercury said, smirking.

"Not if you forget." Max muttered as a light shot out of her wand. Mercury froze and shook her head, looking confused.

"Why am I awake," she asked.

"You had a bad dream," Max replied, putting on a fake sympathetic look.

"Oh! You won't tell, anybody will you?" Mercury asked.

"Not a soul, dear," Max said in a false sweet voice, winking. "Go back to sleep."

Mercury smiled and obeyed, laying down again. Max, still smirking, walked out the door, praising herself for how easy that was.

--

The corridors were dark and quiet, the only light being the moon. Unfortunately there weren't that many windows, so Max had to maneuver herself around in the dark. If anyone were to be in the hall at that very moment, they wouldn't be surprised to hear that Max was heavily cursing under her breath, as not to be heard. Her mind was racing and her stomach was flipping with anxiousness. She had secretly been wondering who her mystery writer was for quite a while. It was times like these when Max wished she had some real friends. If she was in Gryffindor, for example, she and her friends could guess who sent her the note, enjoying the excitement. Then again, if she was in Gryffindor, she most likely would not have even received the note. Still, Max was worried it could be somebody dangerous. There was always a chance that this would be her last night wandering the halls of Hogwarts, or any halls for that matter.

--

Max was a bit surprised when she reached her destination. The corridor had some to an abrupt dead end, with a little circle, probably for lounging. There was a window in the circle, and though Max was supposed to go to the empty classroom to her right, a figure stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Max knew right when the moon reflected on the platinum blonde head that it was Malfoy who had sent her the letter.

"I knew this was too much work for what it was worth," Max said, crossing her arms, and leaning against the wall.

"Come on, you knew it was me, yet you came anyway," Malfoy said.

"Don't flatter yourself ferret boy, I was expecting, and hoping for that matter, that it was going to be something much more exiting than you," Max said, rolling her eyes.

"Don't tease yourself, Connors," Malfoy said, walking down to her.

"Whatever. What do you want, anyway?" Max said, remembering that there was supposed to be a meaning for this late night talk.

"Peace," was all Malfoy said.

"What?" Max asked. Malfoy sighed, and it was obvious he just wished she would understand without him actually having to say it.

"I want you friendship," he muttered. Max raised an eyebrow.

"You mean to tell me that after seven years of fighting, you want to be friends _now?"_ Max asked.

"Well. Yes," Malfoy said.

"What's in it for you?" Max asked, sighing.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked.

"What do you get out of this, because I'm warning you, Malfoy, this isn't going to lead to an easy shag!" Max said, raising her voice.

"Why would anybody want to shag you?" Malfoy asked. "Besides, it's not actually friends I want to be, more like...not enemies," Malfoy said, choosing his words carefully. Max was torn. She was stubborn, not wanting to give in, but he seemed sincere, and if Max was careful.

"Fine," she said, finally. Malfoy smirked.

"I knew you couldn't resist me," he said. Max rolled her eyes. It felt weird being on speaking terms with Malfoy.

"So.. Why did you bring me all the way out here? Why couldn't we have stayed in the common room?" Max asked, feeling it pointless to have walked so far.

"If I told you to meet me in the common room, then you would have known. Then you wouldn't have come," Malfoy said. Max nodded, seeing some sense. Malfoy smirked.

_So, this is what it's going to be like now._


	8. Secret Revealed

It's the moment we've all been waiting for...

Sort of.

Max glared at the mahogany chest at the end of her bed. She picked up a potions book and shielded the chest from her face, or rather shielded her face from the chest. Max sighed and leaned over to move it to the ground, wondering why it had been brought out in the first place.

Satisfied, Max lay back down on her bed. But wait, what if somebody saw it? What then? Max felt it was exposed when not in her sight. She leaned over and picked the chest up, putting in on her bed. There, now she could read in peace.

Max couldn't, though. It was too distracting. So she was forced, completely forced, to open it.

--

The lock clicked as she unlocked it, opening it up. She stared affectionately down at the paper, the pencils, the erasers. It was all her work. All her work sense she was five. On the top were drawings of places, animals, sunsets. Those were the recent ones. There were about five that were from about seven years ago until now. She hadn't drawn that much since she was in Slytherin. If anybody found out it would be social suicide. If you went past those five pictures you found the drawings of people. They were before Hogwarts, pictures of her father, what she thought her mother would look like, and _him._ There were thousands of those. Max quickly hid them near the bottom. If anybody were to find one of those… Max didn't even want to think about it. All the pictures were just black and white, but you could tell who everybody was, what everything was. So, suddenly, Max had the urge to do it again. _Not here,_ she thought. So she locked the chest, grabbed it, and walked off.

The pencil sped across the paper, like it was dancing. Max was it's instructor, telling it how to be beautiful. She was sitting on the roof, drawing the grounds below. She was just working on Hagrid's hut, and personally, it looked great. She smirked at it, refusing to smile. She couldn't sink that low. I mean, it was just drawing, what was wrong with that? _Everything _she thought. Rolling her eyes she began to shade in the hut, making it look real.

"I didn't know you drew," Max's head snapped to the trap door where she saw Harry bloody Potter standing there, staring.

"How long have you been there?" Max demanded.

"Long enough," Potter said. Max rolled her eyes.

"Stop trying to be mysterious, because it's not working," Max said.

"So, you draw?" Potter asked, ignoring her last comment.

"No," Max said bluntly.

"It sure looks like you do, because that picture is amazing, and look, there's more. Wow, Max, these are amazing," Harry said, reaching down to pick one up.

"Stop! No one said you could touch those," Max said, grabbing his arm and pulling it away. She removed her hand in disgust, smirking at the red mark on his arm.

"Stop lying. I know the truth now," Harry said. Max rolled her eyes, furious.

"Why does everyone assume they know everything about me? It's really just silly, because none of you know anything at all," Max said in a fake sweet voice.

"So now I'm everybody?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, you're not the only one. Your nobody. Why are you even up here?" Max questioned him. Harry shrugged.

"No reason," Harry lied. There was a reason. He had seen her there on the map and wanting to see what she was doing up there all alone. She didn't have to know that, though.

"Then go," Max ordered. Harry shrugged again and turned around.

"Fine."

"Oh, and Potter! You won't tell anybody. Or else," Max demanded. Harry looked at her, her stern face betraying hate. Then he saw it again, in her eyes was that thing he recognized, they pleaded with him, begging him. He understood.

" I know nothing. I promise."

--

Max froze, furious. Did he think for one second, just because of _that_ she would let him get away with it? With seeing her venerable? No, he wouldn't. Max stopped herself. He didn't know anything, in fact, he knew nothing about her, so saying what he said, "I promise," did nothing. She would still keep an eye on him, though, just incase he remembered. Max shook her head. She was being stupid. Of course he wouldn't remember. She was being stupid and over dramatic. Then again, anything that included Harry Potter was about ten times more dramatic then it should be.

_I knew drawing was a bad idea. _


	9. A Broken Promise

And things get interesting...

* * *

Why on earth did Harry Potter say that?

It wasn't only that he said it, it was the way he said it. It was like déjà vu, it had happened before. Just not with Max. Harry was a bit angry with himself, Max was nothing like her. Her, being Mallory. Years ago he and Mallory were friends. They had broken apart after Harry was sent to Hogwarts, though. It was scary, he had never noticed before, but Max reminded him of Mallory. But no, they couldn't have any relation. Max was sarcastic, bitchy, and only cared about herself. Mallory was caring, nice, and funny. They did look similar, but a lot of people had black hair and Harry hadn't seen Mallory in years. The only thing they shared other then looks was the fact that both Max and Mallory loved to draw. Harry ignored that, lots of people loved to draw. It was common. Beside, Mallory was proud of it and Max hid it. Well, maybe they were cousins. No, wait, that couldn't be, Max was obviously a pureblood and Mallory was a muggle. Harry shook any thoughts out of his head. It was stupid of him to think that. It was strange, though. He hadn't thought about Mallory in ages. He was just so distracted with Voldemort, and he had Ron and Hermione. Plus she had never bothered to contact him. Why was she always at the back of his mind now? Why was he starting to miss her now? He let his mind wander, farther, farther, until he reached the memory that had been haunting him ever since he encounter with Max.

"_Harry James Potter, stop!" Mallory shouted. They were in the school yard, watering the lawn for the detention they had received. Unfortunately Harry had the hose and was using it as a weapon. _

_"Why should I?" he taunted, grinning. Mallory thought for a moment before grinning broadly._

_"I'll love you forever!" she shouted, engulfing Harry in a big, wet, hug. _

_"Hey!" he shouted. Max smirked. _

_"That's what you get for spraying me with the hose, Mr. Potter," Mallory said, hands on her hips. Harry sprayed the hose at her again. _

_"Are you sure you'll love me forever?" he asked. Mallory nodded. "Positive?" Harry questioned again._

_"Yes!" Mallory exclaimed. Harry dropped the hose and collapsed to the ground. Mallory mimicked him, laying down next to as well. _

_"Hey Mallory?" Harry asked._

_"Yah?" _

_"Are you okay?"_

_"Of course, why?" Mallory said, furrowing her brow.  
"Nothing, you just seem different,"_

_"Oh, well I'm fine. I guess it's just weird, school ending and all," Malloy said, shrugging. Harry shrugged as well, not fully believing her._

Harry never did figure out why Mallory was acting to different. He didn't know it then, but that was probably going to be one of the last time he saw Mallory. It was just that summer that Hagrid had come and whisked him off to Hogwarts. If he could go back in time he would have spent more time with her. She was his first and only friend Harry had for a while. Harry loved her for it.

_"Harry?" Mallory said, looking over to him. _

_"Yah?" he questioned. She seemed solemn, yet calm. _

_"If I ever wanted to run away, just get away from everything, would you come with me?" Mallory asked, leaning on her hand. Harry thought about it for a moment. He didn't have anything to stay for here, and Mallory was his only friend, he wouldn't want to ever lose her. _

_"Yeah, I would," Harry finally decided. Mallory grinned. _

_"Harry, I really meant what I said. I'll always love you. You're my best friend, and that's never going to change, right?" Mallory asked. _

_"Right. I'll always love you too. Even if you are wet," he said, grinning. Mallory smiled weakly as well. _

_"But, we'll always be best friends. No matter what," Mallory said, almost pleading with him. _

_"Yeah, Mallory, of course. I promise."_

Harry cringed. He had broken that promise. It had been so sincere, so true when he said it, but then things just started happening. He left for Hogwarts without telling her and never saw her again. It's like she disappeared.

"Harry, where have you been?" Ginny asked, kissing him as he walked into the common room.

"I took a walk. A journey, almost," Harry added, smiling slightly. Ginny gave him a confused look.

"To where?" she asked.

"The past," Harry stated simply. Ginny furrowed her brow.

"What?" Ginny said, walking toward Harry who had sat down on the couch.

"Ive just been thinking a lot. Nothing to worry about," Harry said, smiling.

"Oh. What have you been thinking about?" Ginny asked, curious.

"Nothing that concerns you," Harry said, trying not to be snappish. He didn't want to tell Ginny about Mallory. He didn't want to tell anybody.

"Ok, ok," Ginny said, leaning onto his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, it's just, stuff that happened before you were around. I really don't like to talk about it. I shouldn't be thinking about it either," Harry said. Ginny nodded, not fully understanding, but knowing it was something unimportant, something already dealt with, something he just needed to forget about it. Ginny knew that if she knew he could never forget about it, so she ignored her curiosity, she ignored her doubt, and did what was best for Harry. It was always whats best for Harry.


	10. Loss and Gain

Intense subjects, coming up...

* * *

You could open it

Oh, but that would be wrong

So?

Haha, youre right.

As Always

Then again, do I want to know what's inside?

Uh, good point.

I would hate for somebody to open my chest.

Its not your fault.

By opening this box I could end my friendship with Mercedes forever

And?

Everything would be ruined

The world could explode!

Ill take the chance

So its settled?

I'm opening it.

After having a very important discussion with her head, Max decided she was going to open Mercedes chest. It was a typical make-up box. There was nothing special about it, but Max had never seen in before and all of a sudden it was on Mercedes bed. The Slytherin in her took over as she opened it up, revealing a sea of silver.

Knives.

Blades.

Other Sharp Objects.

Max picked one up, examining it. She glanced down at her arm, looking normal as could be, and then thought about Mercedes arm, probably full of scars. Wow, that would look horrible.

"So, Connors, what's with the blade?" a voice said, smirking. Max looked up to see Mercury. She was standing there with her hand on her hip, smirking. Max sighed dramatically.

"Well," she said.

"Oh, is it a secret?" Mercury asked. "I bet I can guess. You aren't hurting yourself are you?" Max smiled her fake smile, ready to break the news to Mercury. This would be amusing.

"Yeah, sure, secret except not mine," Max said, holding out her arm for proof.

"Oh really?" Mercury asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course. Why would I do something like this?" Max said, giving the box a disgusted look.

"Well, if its not yours, then whose it is?" Mercury asked. Max shrugged.

"Why should I tell you?" Max asked. She was loving leaving Mercury out of something. She knew Mercury would give in, because Mercury had to know.

"Because," Mercury said, not being able to think of much better.

"I suppose I should tell you," Max said as Mercurys face lit up. "But then again, since when have I done anything I should?" Max asked. Mercury glared.

"Well, at least we know youre not turning into a softie," Mercury mumbled. Max brought out her wand, pointing it at Mercury.

"I am no softie. How could you think such a thing?" Max said, her voice cutting into Mercury.

"Whatever," Mercury said. Max snarled.

"For your information, the cutter is your sister. Mercedes. Have fun with that one. I always knew your family had a defect," Max said. Mercury grew angry as Max got up and lazily dropped the blade in Mercury's hand, causing a small cut.

"Hey, dont walk away from me, you coward!" Mercury yelled after Max.

"Im not. Trust me, Id love to stay, but I have to meet somebody," Max said, sarcasm dripping off every bit of her voice.

"Like who?" Mercury said, throwing the blade on Mercedes bed.

"Draco Malfoy," Max said. With that she lazily flicked her wand, causing large boils to appear on Mercurys face. The door to their room slammed shut and Mercury groaned in fury, just as Mercedes walked in.

"Hey, Max just walked off in a huff and your face-Mercury? " Mercedes cut off, confused. Mercury shot a glare at her sister, feeling the anger fill up inside of her.

"Why you little, you liar! "

--

Draco Malfoy sat in the Slytherin Common Room, reading the newspaper, ignoring Pansy as she talked. Wow, was she annoying. But Draco Malfoy had nothing better to do, and with that black-haired beauty in his mind there was no escape. Of course Draco Malfoy didn't actually love her, but she was damn sexy and he liked her well enough that he knew together they'd be the King and Queen of Slytherin.

"I can not believe Snape, why would he give us so much work?" Pansy blabbered on.

"Why were you born so ugly?" a sarcastic voice said from the girls stairs. Draco smirked. There she was now.

"Well-" Pansy was cut off.

"Whatever. Draco and I have somewhere to be, right?" Max said, giving him a pointed glare. Draco caught on quick and nodded.

"Of course. Come on," he said, getting up and walking out of the portrait hole, Max following him, but not before winking at an insulted Pansy.

"Thanks for saving my ass back there. God, she is so annoying," Draco said, rolling his eyes. Max shrugged.

"Whatever," she said as they walked through the empty dungeons.

"Whats up your ass?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mercedes drama and Pansy being a pansy," Max said. Draco raised an eyebrow, but didnt say a word.

"So where are your cronies?" Max asked, referring to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Eating, those overgrown gorillas," Draco said. Max smirked.

"Figures."

"So, I was thinking now that were on speaking terms we could take it to the next level," Draco said. Max looked at him.

"What? Stop being gay and act normal," Max said. Draco shrugged.

"I'm not gay. In fact I was just saying I want you to be my girlfriend," Draco said. Max laughed out loud. It was one of those piercing laughs where it is obviously funny to the point where its not at all.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

"Yea," Draco said, giving her an odd look.

"You mean to say that after seven years of hating me, you want to go out? " Max asked. Draco shrugged again.

"Pretty much," he said.

"Well fine. I accept. But remember, no easy shags. Im not giving in to that," Max said. Draco smirked.

"Fine with me," he said, throwing her against the wall, his lips landing on hers. She smirked into the kiss. Just because she wouldn't let him shag her didn't mean they couldn't have a little fun. After all, this was the best part. After all this is what relationships are based off, or at least Slytherin ones.

Draco stuck his tongue in Maxs mouth and she did the same to him. They fooled around a bit before Max pushed him off, smirking.

"What?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrow at the devious look on her face.

"Lets go flaunt," Max said. Draco smirked with her. Dinner was starting and he couldnt wait to break the news to Pansy.

"I love the way you think," Draco said, still smirking.

"I know," Max said, flipping her hair in his face. Draco pushed her lightly, landing one more heated kiss on her lips. Max smirked again, ruffling up his hair.

"What the hell was that for?" Draco yelled, becoming angry.

"Just because I wont shag you, doesn't mean we can't pretend," Max said, unbuttoning her shirt a bit. Draco did the same, buttoning it up wrong.

"What about your hair?" Draco asked, still angry about his blond locks.

"Connors never get sex hair," Max said, walking in the great hall. Draco rolled his eyes, following after.

"Oh, lookie what we have here!" Blaise Zambini said, smirking. "Was she good?" he whispered in Draco's ear. Draco said nothing, but smirked, glancing at Max who was enjoying the glares she was receiving from Pansy.

"I am defiantly enjoying this," Max said, leaving kissed up Draco's neck.

"I know! Why didn't I think of this before?" Draco said, displaying a bit of false enthusiasm. Max glared.

"Because you're gay," Max said.

"What does that make you?" Draco asked.

"The sexy beast that turned you straight!" Max said seductively, running a hand up Draco's leg. Blaise mad a catcall.

"Bitch."


	11. Letters of War

Max Connors smirked as Draco sat down and began kissing her neck. She turned to face him, crashing her lips down on his. His tongue forced into her mouth and her hands started creeping up his shirt.

"Get a damn room, will you?" Blaise muttered, his dark features scowling. Max punched his shoulder and simply went back to snogging Draco. She had no idea he was such an experienced kisser! He began feeling up her shirt this time and smirked, her arms coming around his neck, as she ran her fingers through his silky hair. Damn, this was fun. Why didnt this happen sooner? Their session was interrupted as the mail came in.

"Oh, look, I have mail," Max said sarcastically. She snatched the letter, only to have the owl drop a second one on her toast. Scowling, she slapped Blaises hand away from it. Tearing open the first letter she placed a hand in front of Dracos face.

"My mail is my mail. Not yours. Maybe Ill tell you about it later," Max said, her eyes scanning the letter, reading the familiar writing.

_Dear Maxwell,_ Max flinched.

_I have been talking to The Dark Lord recently about your_... position_. He has decided it would be best that instead of becoming a Death Eater after your seventh year, you start in the middle. In an upcoming weekend you are to come home and the proper ceremonies will be performed. I don't care if this messed up your plans, you should be glad The Dark Lord is accepting you at all. _

_Nate Connors_

"Who was it from?" Draco asked. Max shrugged.

"My dad. Nothing big," Max said, throwing the letter aside, showing off the torn Connors Crest. Max opened the buttery second letter, not recognizing anything about it. Who did she know that would send her mail like this?

_Max-_

_So you and Malfoy? I thought you hated him. Well, alright, Ill bug you about that later. That isnt the purpose of this well written out letter. _Max snorted. _I was hoping I could talk to you sometime. Yes, I know what your thinking, but remember, I have blackmail on you. You never know what I could do with that. Meet me in front of the Room of Requirements ( Im hoping you know where that is, being so close with Malfoy and all) at 12 tonight. Just so nobody knows, because remember Max, I don't think my friends would like me talking to you, either. So be there or not, Ill see you around. _

_-HP _

Max scowled, her face becoming red in anger.

"Damn him. Damn him to hell," she said, getting up and storming out, clutching the paper in her hands. She wanted to walk over to him and slap him in the face, but she knew Slytherins werent stupid and would guess he had been writing to her. Taking in a shaky breath, Max went to class, knowing she would have to be there. She had no choice.

--

Harry couldnt help but laugh as Max stormed out, cursing him. Malfoy looked confused along with most of the Slytherins. He hadnt known why he had sent that letter, he didnt _really_ need to talk to Max. Of course he wanted too, though. Now that he knew she drew, Harry was coming to realized Max might be human after all. He wanted to see more of that side of her. To be honest, Harry was intrigued by her. In a way he thought of Max as a Jackal and Hyde. Maybe if he could just break her down a little..

"Guys, we have to go to class. Come on," Hermione urged. Harry sighed, getting up and grabbing his bag.

"Im not finished!" Ron exclaimed. Laughing, Harry dragged Ron along. If he had to deal with Hermione, so did his best mate.

--

"What was that about?" Draco hissed, sitting next to Max in potions.

"That is none of her business!" Max yelled back, eyes full of hatred.

"Im your boyfriend!" Draco said. Max rolled her eyes.

"So? Its not like Im having an affair! I dont have to tell you everything!" Max wanted to yell, but was forced to whisper.

"You should!" Draco yelled. Max rolled her eyes.

"So?" she said. Dracos face became red and he opened his mouth to retort.

"Connors, Malfoy, is there something wrong?" Snape asked, eying them.

"No," Draco muttered.

"Yes, yes there is!" Max yelled, storming out.

"Detention and 5 points from Slytherin!" Snape yelled. Max rolled her eyes, at least she wouldnt have to talk to _him._

"Whats up her knickers?" Ron muttered to Harry, who shrugged.

"Who knows," he lied. He knew perfectly well what was up her knickers. Him. Well, okay, maybe he should rephrase that, but anyhow, he knew perfectly well that he was pissing Max Connors off. He was loving every minute of it.

"Who cares," he added.


	12. Imaginary

"Wow, you came," Harry said, leaning against the wall.

"Yea, well, it didnt look like I had a choice," Max retorted. She obviously wasnt very happy to be there, and Harry obviously knew that. How come he had the upper hand?

"You could have just told them," Harry suggested. Max rolled her eyes.

"You know, it was very conniving of you to blackmail me, but this is why you wouldnt do well in Slytherin. You just dont understand how it works," Max said, a slight smirk on her face. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Care to explain?"

"No." Harry shrugged.

"Fair enough,"

"So why am I here? Did you just want to bug me?" Max asked. Harry shrugged again

_God, that is so annoying._

"I dont know, to be honest. Just a feeling, I guess," he said. Max was suddenly angry. He blackmailed her to come here because he felt like it? She let out a low growl.

"Look, Potter, yes, I draw. Yes, you watched me. No, this doesnt change anything. Just because I draw doesnt make me _nice_. Its my one weakness, and I think youve proven that by making me come here," Max growled. Harry gave her an incredulous look.

"I beg to differ," he said. Max could only roll her eyes.

"Why do the male species insist on knowing everything about me?" Harry raised an eyebrow, she had said something like that before.

"I dont know, Max, why?" he asked. Max glared, knowing he was just trying to spite her.

"Look, Potter, I know you think that now Im going to be nice, show some weird nonexistent side to you, but Im not. That is just all some shit in your head," Max growled, walking up to him.

"Prove it," he said. Was he really that persistent. Max pressed her body against his and whispered in his ear.

"Because Potter, Im going to be a Death Eater, and a proud one, too," Max hissed. Harrys eyes widened.

"Come on, Max, stop bluffing," Harry said, though it was obviously he didnt mean it.

"Im not lying. By the time I come back from a weekend break, my main goal will be to kill you, and if your not careful I might just do that now," Max threatened.

"You wouldnt," Harry denied it.

"Like I said, drawing just proves Im human, not anything else," Max said, backing away from Harry. The night was ending, it was obvious he was giving up.

_Good, I'll never have to worry about him again._

"So why cant you tell anybody?" Harry asked.

_Damn, never mind._

"Because Slytherins aren't human," Max said. It was so hard trying to explain things to him. It was truly pointless effort.

"Are you calling yourself not Slytherin?" Harry asked. Max sighed.

"Im calling myself much higher than Slytherins, who are higher than you," Max said, smirking.

"But apparently not high enough for Death Eaters," Harry said raising both eye brows.

"Why do you think Im starting now instead of later like everybody else?" Max asked. Harry didnt respond. He was annoyed and angry. Sure, he wasnt surprised, but they way she acted so proud about it…

Harry was just unfamiliar with this sort of attitude. Figuring that there was no point on dealing with Max ever again, Harry decided to end the night. He didnt need to be talking to a future Death Eater.

"Fine, go crawling back to Malfoy," he said, turning to walk away. He could feel Max glaring at him, and a light smile came on him face. At least he had annoyed her.

Overall it was safe to say that any interest-if you could call it that-Harry had in Max Connors and the complexity of her character was gone. Maxs character was not complex. She was a bitch, Slytherin, and Death Eater scum. There was nothing more to it. It was safe to say that Max Connors would never cross Harrys mind again. He felt relieved that he was over that phase. Now he could go back to Ginny, know that all Slytherins were the same, and life would return to normal again. Or as normal as it would ever get.

--

It had been five long minutes since Harry had strutted off. Max still stood where she had been before, her eyes directly straight. She could see the empty hall, full of darkness. Eventually she let out a long, loud, scream that echoed off the walls. Damn Potter. Why did he have to make life so complicated? Or maybe it was Max just turning things complicated-no! Max scolded herself for being stupid and showing up. She knew Potter would never have the balls to tell her secret. Plus, he had _promised _and while Max never kept her promises, she knew for a fact that Potter did. Most of the time. Max shrugged and turned on her heal. She stormed all the wall to the Slytherin common room. There she stood, frozen. She turned left toward the girls staircase, but then at the last minute turned right back to the boys. She easily found the seventh years room. She easily found Malfoys bed. She easily found herself on top of him. He easily returned her heavy kiss.

"I'm still not shagging you, but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun."

After all, this was what boyfriends were for, right?


	13. By Hang Out I Mean Snog

I apologize for the immense shortness of this chapter. . It is, by far, the shortest thing I will will ever write.

* * *

"Hey," Draco placed his arms on Maxs shoulders. She easily leaned into him.

"Sup?" Max said, throwing a shirt in her suitcase.

"So I was wondering if you wanted to go to my house for Christmas break. We could, you know, hang out," Draco said, shrugging. Max raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" she said, a slight smirk on her face.

"Yes, and by hang out, I mean snog," Draco said. Max gasped, hitting him.

"You're such a pig," she grumbled. Draco shrugged, a laugh echoing on his face.

"So, you want to come?"

"I want to, but…" she trailed off, folding clothes into her suitcase.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked suddenly, as if he had just noticed what she was doing.

"Home for the weekend. Daddy wants to talk to me," she explained, rolling her eyes.

"So, if he's getting you this weekend he won't mind Christmas with me!" Draco said, letting go of Max. She couldnt help but notice that through his disappointment his chest was puffed out in arrogance.

"Oh, stop it, I have much more important people to meet," Max smirked, her index finger touching his chest. Draco glared.

"Like who?" he asked, angrily.

"I don't know. Who knows what I'll be doing by Christmas!" Max said, turning back to her close.

"Would you care to tell me what you're going on about, Connors?" It was obvious Draco was angry, and Max couldnt help but take joy in his frustration. She supposed she had to tell him, though. She told Potter, after all.

"Alright, fine. This weekend isn't just a weekend home with my father."'

"What is it then?" was his immediate response. Max rolled her eyes.

"The Dark Lord has decided it was be best that I become his servant now rather than later. I might tell you about it if youre good," Max said. Draco gave her an incredulous look.

"Is that what you want?" he asked. Max didnt look at him. Didn't mention that she wasn't sure, didn't take the time to figure out if she really was. Didn't care anyway, because the decision had already been made, already been set out, the dates were set and turning back was not an option. It had never been an option.

"Of course."

--

Playing with her quill, Max stared at her wrist, imagining a green mark on it. Slowly the mark grew, becoming a scull figure. She saw the snake escape its mouth in her mind and could almost feel it burn. Of course, she there was no such thing on her wrist, not yet anyhow.

"Thinking of cutting too, Connors?" Mercurys cold voice pierced the air.

"You wish. Stop assuming things like your better than me," Max said, her fantasies fading.

"You know I am," Max snorted.

"I'm not related to Mercedes," she said. Mercury glared.

"Just run off to Draco, become a Malfoy," Mercury said.

"That the best you can come up with? If I didnt know better Id say you were jealous?" Max asked.

"Why would I be jealous of you?" Mercury asked.

"I dont know, you tell me?" Max said, her eyes narrowing.

"I know youre thinking about staying with him. Silly, Max, how you used to hate him and now youre shagging him," Mercury said, looking out the window.

"I'm not _shagging _him. Im not even staying with him. I have other plans," Max said, surprised about how many times she had been telling people this. She didnt show it.

"Oh really? Like what?" Mercury said, raising an eyebrow.

"Stuff you wouldnt even attempt to know."


	14. One of Us

* * *

"Maxwell."

"Father," Maxs face showed no emotion as she was greeted by her _ever so loving_ father.

"Shall we go then?" he asked, offering an arm for side along apperation.

"Of course. No use longing around here," Max said, taking his arm. And with a single pop they were gone.

--

Nate Connors stared down at his daughter. He should be proud. She had gone from young child to pureblood young lady. Any father would be proud. Yet, Nate Connors could not. Max was the spitting image of her mother. Her mother, Nate had killed seventeen years ago. Through his fury that his wife had bore a girl and not a boy, he had murdered his beautiful wife. He would have murdered Max too. But his master, The Dark Lord Voldemort, told him no. The Dark Lord did not tell Nate why to keep the worthless piece of meat alive. All Nate knew was that The Dark Lord always has his reasons and they are usually important reason, so he should listen. So Nate, with hopes that his daughter would change gender named her Maxwell.

After The Dark Lords fall Nate came very close to doing it. He had to send her away to a muggle primary school just to rid himself of her. She was not what he wanted, nothing like he planned. But Nate believed The Dark Lord would return, so he lived with her, and sent her off to Hogwarts as she became of age. Things turned around from there. Max was sorted into Slytherin, made pureblood friends, and slowly grew to be more like her father. Nate was pleased, but not the least bit content. He was surprised when his master, having returned, requested her to be his servant so soon. Most were waiting till after school, but Max was special in Voldemorts eyes. The only problem was, Nate couldnt figure out why.

--

"So, I hear you are with the Malfoy boy. Is it true?" Nate asked. Max looked up at him, he had been silent for a while as they walked down the long halls of a large house, apparently he was leading her to her room.

"Yes, I am," Max said. It was not a big matter. Though Max did know Nate had been bitterly jealous that the Malfoys had a boy and he received a girl. Still, the Malfoys were a nice family, and Nate knew well enough that his daughter and the boy would be a good thing.

"Interesting," was all Nate said, though.

"Will the ceremony be tonight?" Max asked.

"No, tomorrow night. Speaking of which." Nate handed Max a package.

"What is this?" Max asked.

"The Dark Lord requests you wear this. So, obviously, you will," Nate said, then pushed her into her room. Max grumbled, and sat down, opening the package. In it was a long black dress, flowing at the end. The hem was laced with a dark green. It wasnt the prettiest of things, but good enough for Max. It didnt really matter, though. She had no choice. Taking a deep breathe, Max hung the dress up and changed for bed, falling into a deep sleep.

--

Max winced in pain as the mark was burned on her skin. Her eyes closed in agony. As the pain subsided her eyes opened and she looked up to meet the red ones of Lord Voldemort himself. Max quickly turned away, breathing heavily. She sensed the power in his eyes. He was brilliant. Obviously evil, but brilliant and more powerful than anybody Max had ever met. Her chest rose up and down as she looked toward the ground, not yet strong enough to face him. It looked like she didnt have a choice, though. His thin finger was placed on her chin and she shivered as she was brought to face him again.

"You are one of us now. There is no turning back," his cold voice said.

"Why would I want to?" Max asked, showing her devotion. Voldemort let a twisted smile slip, a strange glint in his eye.

"I know present you, Max Connors, faithful death eater!" he shouted, grasping her wrist and showing it off. Max winced, but ignored the pain and held her head up high. The Death Eaters clapped, but Max did not meet anyones eye.

--

Lying on her bed, Max had not yet looked at her wrist. She was a death eater now, she should be proud. And she was, but it was a different feeling, to officially be on his side. She was all alone now, nobody else had yet made it this far. Max turned her head, looking for the first time at the permanent mark on her wrist. She opened her mouth, as if to mutter something, but closed it again. She sat up and grabbed some parchment and a quill. She would tell Draco.

_Draco-_

_Theyve done it. Im a death eater. Cant wait till you are too, its great. brbr_

_-Max _

Max could not go much further into it than that. Trusting Draco had been easy, though Max found that strange. Hating him for six years, and all of a sudden they were together. It was strange, but Max had never really thought anything of it. She never did. Still, she couldnt let her guard down. Max did find it was easy to be truthful with him than Pansy or Mercedes, even Mercury, but she was not going to go soft because of him. She couldnt tell him that it hurt like hell and that it was not all that great, she had to make him think she wanted this. She did, but it was hard, now serving somebody like Voldemort. She wouldnt tell anybody this, though. They would find out on there own, and if they didnt, the probably werent worth her time anymore. What a cruel world we live in.

Soon her owl flew in with a letter from Draco.

_Well, Max Connors, you are now one of us._

Max raised an eyebrow. She was not aware he was a death eater. She figured as much, though. Now they were both one, so now he could tell her. Max sighed, the words ringing through her head.

You are now one of us

* * *

Much better, huh?


	15. The Slytherin Queen

"Why didn't you tell me?" Max asked, leaning on the table next to Draco. He turned to look at her.

"It didn't come up in conversation," he said, turning back to his food. Max frowned.

"What do you mean? You of all people should want to tell the world!" Max exclaimed.

"Maxwell, you have overestimated me! Yes, I'm proud, but it's not something I like the flaunt, and I suggest you don't either," Draco hissed. Max glared and opened her mouth to retort.

"Sharing secrets now, are we?" a cold voice said. Max sat up straight and turned to look at Mercury. She was standing tall and looking down on Max, who was sitting.

"You'll never know, it's a secret," Max said, smirking. Mercury frowned.

"I don't get it. How can you hate him for so long and then just go whisper in his ear like you've been _best friends for years,"_ Mercury said, her voice a deadly calm, her glare as cold as ice. Max couldn't help but shiver, but pushed those thoughts away.

"Are you jealous?" Max asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" Mercury mused.

"What's up with you?" Max asked, giving her an incredulous look. "I don't think this is about me. I think this is about you caring about what happened with Mercedes" Max said, snarling. She knew she was right too, this was how Mercury showed she cared. Slytherins are like that, they show emotion in different ways.

"At least I care when my family is hurt," Mercury said. Max snorted.

"You're embarrassed, I know that. Besides, caring is for the weak, like the Gryffindorks," Max said, glancing at the house's table.

"Wow, Max, you really are the Slytherin Queen. You're more than heartless, I don't think you had a heart to begin with," Mercury said, walking away. Max shook her head, laughing at how wrong the girl was. If only she knew; but she didn't, and never would.

"That was….interesting," Draco teased. Max rolled her eyes.

"Alas, the McGoverns are getting more stupid by the day," Max teased. Draco laughed.

"That they are," he said.

"I pity them," Max said. Draco shook his head, turning back to his food. Max glared.

"So Max, now that you _know,"_ Draco paused, "Would you like to come to my house for Christmas?" he asked. Max sighed, shaking her head.

"I suppose, if that is what you want…" Max teased. Draco smirked, hitting her playfully.

"Good, we'll have lot's of _fun."_

--

"Now, the charm is _felencious,_ and when performed correctly it will allow whoever it was cast upon to become translucent, but not invisible," Flitwick ranted on. Max was practically falling asleep. This was stupid. She hated charms, it was so boring!

"Wake up!" a Ravenclaw girl ordered. Max looked at her, giving her a death glare. The girl recoiled.

"Nevermind, ignore me," she said, turning back to her work. Max smirked and went back to not paying attention. She yawned, shaking her head and glaring at those watching her. They immediately turned back to their work, terrified of the Slytherin girl.

"Look at her, Mercury, look at her!" Pansy exclaimed.

"What?" Mercury asked. She had taken lead of the other two girls, almost shunning Max.

"She has every single person in this room terrified of her. I don't understand what it is about her, but she has got half the school wrapped around her finger," Mercedes said. Pansy nodded.

"I know, I personally think it would be much better to be on her good side," Pansy said, acting like she was smart. Mercury laughed.

"Pansy, you just want to get close to Draco," she said.

"I can do that without Max's help!" Pansy defended.

"Sure…"Mercury said, turning to her paper.

"Look, all we're saying is maybe we should make peace with her. Obviously you've done something to get her angry with us and now you have to fix it!" Mercedes said. Mercury scoffed.

"Whatever."

--

"Max?"

"Mercury! It's been so long! I've really missed you!" Max said, every bit of her voice laced with sarcasm and fake enthusiasm.

"Don't play me Max, I'm here to make peace," Mercury said.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Max asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," Mercury said. She obviously wasn't going to tell the truth.

"I didn't know we were fighting," Max mused.

"Well, now you know!" Mercury said, a fake smile forming on her face.

"Well I guess it doesn't matter now, since we're apparently making peace," Max said, her own face forming a smirk.

"Yeah, whatever," Mercury said, waving it off.

"Well, we better be off to class! We wouldn't want to be bad Slytherins and be late!" Max said, nodding. Mercury shook her head at Max. She knew Max was faking the whole conversation just to get her mad. Mercury handled herself well, she knew what she was doing and she knew Max would be over it in a few hours. Besides, Mercury was already humiliated enough. Mercedes and Pansy would pay for making her do this alone. Mercury desperately wanted to be like Max, powerful, witty, The Slytherin Queen. Yet, as long as Max was around, Mercury would always be just another Slytherin girl. She shook it off, not letting her thoughts go too deep, but soaking up the bitter jealousy.


	16. Going Soft

**Warning. **For the next few chapters things gets testy. The writing wavers between horrible and...a step above that. I don't know. I just don't like these silly fillers.

* * *

"Chill out, Max, you seem so tense," Draco said, poking his girlfriend. She scowled, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not tense," Max said, flipping her hair and getting up to walk to her room. She sat down on her bed, letting out a long sigh. Max's eyes were closed as she let doubt flow over her. In the back of her mind Max felt forced to be a death eater. At first she was so sure, but now….

Max shook her head. She was over thinking things. It didn't matter if she wanted to be one or not; nothing would change the fact that the dark mark was on her arm. After all, there was no going back once you made the choice to become a Death Eater. Max wondered, if only briefly, if there was ever a chance to go back after she was placed in Slytherin. Max wondered, if only less briefly, if there was ever a voice at all.

"Max, would you mind massing me that brush?" a sweet voice asked. It made Max wince, almost being too sweet. Max looked up to see Mercedes, a grin on her face.

"Whatever," Max said, tossing over the black brush.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

--

Mercedes walked back down to the common room to meet Pansy.

"Guess what?"

"What?" Pansy asked, a slight smile forming on her face.

"I just had a normal conversation with Max Connors," Mercedes said, smirking. Draco looked up from his essay.

"What's so special about that?" he asked. Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"Haven't you noticed?" she asked.

"Of course he wouldn't notice, dumbass," Pansy scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Max is just…Max has been acting a little bit strange this year," Mercedes explained. More than strange, actually. Max had been on and off all year long, some days reasonably pleasantly, other days abnormally bitchy. It was as if she couldn't make up her mind. Maybe she was having an identity crisis.

"How?" Draco asked, looking interested.

"Well, I don't know. She goes from mega bitch Max to extra nice Max. She's with you. She is just never normal!" Mercedes tried to explain. Draco shook his head. With Max there wasn't really ever a normal. Shouldn't they know that? They had been friends with her longer than he had.

"Whatever," he said turning back to his book.

"Do you think she's going soft?" Pansy whispered, her eyes lighting up.

"No! You think?" Mercedes questioned, horrified. It was unheard that Max would ever go into the range of "going soft." Even at her best, Max was in control, towering over everybody. Nobody even bothered to stand up to her when she said something they disagreed with. They didn't want to mess up the balance she created for herself. They didn't want to change the way things were, even if they didn't always like it.

"It could be! That's why your sister is standing up. Everybody knows that if Max goes soft…" Pansy trailed off.

"What would have caused it, though?" Mercedes asked, wiggling her eyebrows. Pansy grabbed her hand and dragged her off where Draco wouldn't hear.

"Draco; it's Draco!" Pansy exclaimed in a whisper.

"That's crazy! Draco is…**Draco! **He's just as bad as Max!" Mercedes told her. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"I don't know. All I know is that Max is different this year and this year Draco entered her life," Pansy said, looking shiftily around the room.

"I don't know. Are we even sure she's going soft? I mean really, she's Max. She can't be going soft," Mercedes said, shrugging.

"Who's going soft?" Mercury asked, walking up to the whispering girls.

"Max," they chorused back. Mercury laughed as she walked away, her hair swaying behind her. If only they knew exactly what as happening with her.

--

Max traced the mark on her wrist, staring out the window absentmindedly. Her mind had left the room and only the opening of the door brought it back. Max quickly covered her arm as her head snapped toward the door. Mercury had walked in and she was lazily dropped her book bag on her bed, finally collapsing on it, staring at Max with interest.

"What?" Max snapped.

"Mercedes and Pansy say you're going soft," Mercury said, twirling her hair.

"Do they?" Max asked, tilting her head to the side. Mercury nodded, staring at Max's cold eyes.

"Yep."

"Well, add that to the list of things those two have gotten wrong."

Mercury smirked, getting off her bed and leaving again. Right before she left, Mercury glanced back, giving Max a look the Slytherin death eater couldn't read.


	17. Diva

Oh, Max. Why can't you just do as I tell you without complaint? There isn't a reason for us to argue like this! When you don't behave the chapters end up shorter, the characterization all off, and the prose lacking. **TELL ME MAX, IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT FOR YOUR STORY? **

Excuse me. On with the story now, and excuse my very rude behavior. But, as you might have noticed, Max just isn't very cooperative.

* * *

Max shoved past a first year, hating that the little brats were in her way so often as she strutted toward the Slytherin table. She glanced at Mercury, smirking before pressing her lips hard on Draco's. He wasted no time in kissing back. Just as things were about to heat up Mercedes spoke.

"Oh, get a room!" Max frowned, breaking apart from her boyfriend.

"Shut up, Mercedes. You're just jealous because nobody wants you," Max said. Mercedes glared before turning back to Pansy. She whispered something in her friends year before the girls broke out in giggles. Mercury raises an eyebrow and Max winked, kissing Draco one last time.

"So Max, what's up?" Mercury asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Nothing, does it look like anything's up?" Max asked. Mercury shrugged.

"Nope, just checking," Mercury said. It was silent for a while and Mercury recognized this sort of silence easily. Max was up to something. That only meant one thing: she was angry. When Max was angry she'd keep quiet for a while before bringing it up slowly. In the end she'd have blown up and won another battle. Luckily, Mercury had never been on the receiving end of one of her tantrums.

There was something else, though, Mercury was noticing. While there was nothing unordinary about Max's behavior something was changing. Whether it was Max herself or the circumstances Max put herself in, the girl was not the same. Life as Hogwarts knew it, in fact, was spinning, twisting, mixing together. The stable way of Slytherin life was slowly, but surely, coming towards a drastic change. It seemed, at least to Mercury, that it centered around Max

Then again, most things centered around max.

"So Mercedes," Max started. Mercedes looked at Max with curious eyes.

"What?" she asked.

"I hear you think I'm going soft," Max said, taking a bite of her flapjacks. She was fierce, willing to protect her pride and ego, even if it meant picking a fight. Mercedes raised an eyebrow.

"Who told you that?" she asked, glancing at Pansy.

"Nobody important. Besides, that's not what we're discussing," Max said, ignoring her food at staring right at Mercedes.

"Well, maybe I said what I said because it's true!" Mercedes said. Max snorted.

"You wish."

"What are you talking about?" Mercedes asked, not giving up to easily.

"You want me to be going soft because you want to be the new me, it's obvious!" Max said, getting up and leaving. Mercury remembered the feeling of wanting to be Max. Some days she still felt as if she did want to be Max. She seemed to have everything going for her, a power that no one else could seem to master. It was a strange practice she couldn't understand. She shook her head and turned back to her food, feeling ashamed of her sister and herself.

--

"How can you live with her?" Max asked, laughing.

"I don't. We are two separate people, I like to stay as far away as possible," Mercury said. Max nodded.

"I would too," she said.

"Ya," Mercury said, trailing off. She was far too thoughtful for her own good.

"What?" Max asked.

"Nothing," Mercedes said for the second time that day. Max rolled her eyes.

"Okay, whatever."

"Open your books to page three hundred fifty seven!" Snape ordered, coming in. Max pointed her wand at her book and it flipped to the correct page. She leaned back in her seat, attempting to pay attention to Snape's lecture.

"This is so gay," Max whispered, frowning.

"Tell me about it," Mercury mumbled, knowing she should just agree with Max. She wasn't really listening to her, though. She was _thinking_ about her. Mercury knew something was different, but she couldn't figure out what. Glancing at Max she pondered how the girl had been different. Nothing was different, Max was just Max.

Wait.

Was that? Is that? No it couldn't be.

Yet, Mercury swore she saw a speck of green dancing up the left wrist of Max's arm.

--

"Get out of my way!" Max snarled, pushing Mercedes out of the way. Gravity brought the brunette down and she scowled.

"You think you're so great, Connors, but you aren't!" Mercedes yelled, mimicking the things they'd said about Gryffindors and the like, so many times before. Max was quick to respond though, not willing to compare herself like that.

"What makes you think you're any better?" Max asked. Mercedes glared.

"Everything."

"Like what?"

"Wow Max, you just can't keep out of a fight," Draco said, tutting. Max snarled, shook her head, and walked away. Of course, not before they heard Mercedes screaming after them.

"Nobody cares, Max! you think you're such a diva, but you aren't! I would _never_ want to be you. Nobody loves you!"


	18. Push Away the Weakness

ugg. lies, for it another short story. I am a failure

* * *

"What's up?" Draco asked his girlfriend. She was staring into the fire, showing no emotion. Draco, being the good boyfriend he was, was very well aware that something was bothering Max. From the very beginning he had been able to tell what the mysterious girl was feeling, being able to read her almost like a book.

No, that was not true. While Draco would tell if she was feeling happy or sad or angry the source of the emotion would forever remain a mystery to him. He would wonder, sometimes for hours on end, what exactly had come upon the girl to make her feel the way she did. Sometimes he just wished she would tell him more things, explain to him things he did not understand

"Nothing," Max lied.

"Look, if you're still hung up about Mercedes-"

"I'm not," Max said, rolling her eyes. Draco frowned, trying to decipher whether or not she was telling the truth. It was unlike Max to just open up and tell why she was upset, so Draco had no way of knowing if Mercedes was the actual reason or not. He wanted to know, though. He needed to know, not just because he was curious, but because he cared about her.

"Ok, just know that she's just jealous and everything she said about you was a lie," Draco said, wrapping his arms around Max. He stared to kiss her neck and Max closed her eyes, letting his lips roam her body. She didn't really care, for to be honest her mind _was_ lost in thought. Mercedes's words were ringing in her head, even when she'd told Malfoy they weren't.

_Nobody Loves You. _

Max knew it was probably true. Not even her own father loved her. She didn't care so much about that, though. She cared about the fact that she really didn't have real friends. The ones she did have were always fighting with her and Draco was really the only one on her side. He didn't count, though. Max was pretty sure he was just with her to be with her. He most likely didn't love her or anything like that.

Yet, Draco had tried to console her the best he could when he found her by the fire, lost in thought. Maybe she hadn't noticed before, because her focus had been elsewhere, but Draco did seem to care about her, even if he didn't tell her. He showed a sort of concern Max had only felt once before, and the similarities were quite ironic.

There was another thing on her mind, though. Ever since she became a Death Eater nothing had happened. The only thing proving it actually happened was the mark on her arm. She wanted to be important. She wanted to make the difference. When would she learn to be careful what she wished for?

"Let's get out of here. You obviously are way too interested in that fire," Draco said, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the common room.

"Where are we going?" Max asked, a slight laugh in her voice.

"Somewhere," Draco said, mischief dancing in his eyes. Max rolled her eyes and Draco dragged her around the castle.

"Why do I follow you?" she asked.

"How should I know?"

Max laughed, though, letting herself be distracted by Draco. He made her happy, when he wasn't being a jerk, and she took this time to realize that she was glad they'd gotten together. Their fights were stupid anyway, with no meaning behind them. Suddenly, more suddenly than Max could hope for, Draco Malfoy become a steady aspect of her life, an alley she did not share with her friends.

It felt nice.


	19. Eyes

Things sort of start to get back on track here...

* * *

"Hey, you ready to go back?" Draco asked his girlfriend. He had brought her up to the astronomy tower, hoping that maybe he could get inside her brain. Of course, it didn't work. Max was as cold as stone and all feeling she kept deep inside herself. He'd never be able to see very far.

"You go ahead. I'll be right there," Max said, feeling quite secluded. She didn't want to talk to anybody right now. She didn't want to talk to anybody ever. She felt as if things were getting far too complicated to handle, even though nothing had really changed at all. Her mind was clouding.

"Alright. See you tomorrow," Draco said, getting up and taking his leave. After a while Max got up too, absentmindedly walking down the corridor. She had been walking for quite some time when she crashed into somebody. She fell to her knees, staying still for a moment before looking up to see two eyes staring back at her. She froze, recognizing them all too well. That wasn't what scared her, though. What scared her was they brought back yet another memory.

_Max was walking in the hallway, gazing off into space for whatever reason. Then, for the second time that day, Max bumped into someone. _

_"Hey!" she yelled from the ground as she was on her knees. Then, every so slowly, she raised her head to see the familiar pools of green._

_"Sorry!" he said quickly. Max stared at him, watching him ramble, her face showing a look of confusion and anger. Max took a deep breath, a wave of emotion flooding over her. _

_"I can't do this. I'm sorry," she said, standing up. The boy stood up too._

_"What?" he asked._

_"I can't be cruel. I'm really sorry for being mean to you. Can we be friends?" Max asked._

_"Sure, my name is-" _

"Connors!" a voice yelled. Max jumped, getting up. That memory should be erased forever. She was stupid then, opening up to people like it was nothing. That was before Hogwarts, before she learned how to be a Slytherin. It she acted the way she did then now she'd be slaughtered.

"Potter!" she said, brushing hair out of her face. At that moment her sleeve came down, revealing a glittering green tattoo on her wrist. Harry stood frozen for a moment, his eyes bearing deep into her soul. Max turned around, hating how he was making her feel vulnerable like that. She hated that boy, hated how observant he was. It wasn't fair that he saw the things she tried to hid the most, questioned the things she tried to never think about again.

"So you did it," Harry said, venom dripping from his voice.

"I told you I would," Max said, not looking back.

"I thought you were bluffing. You aren't exactly the most trustworthy person," Harry said. Max felt his glare. Fury bubbled inside of her, finally letting her annoyance break out. She wasn't going to let him play her like this. She wasn't a game, and she definitely wasn't his.

"Stop doing that!" she said, turning around to face him.

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me!" Max exclaimed, her voice cracking.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Shall I close my eyes?" Harry asked. Max glowered.

"Shut up,"

"I can say whatever I want."

"Yea; I can also kick your ass whenever I want," Max warned.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked accusingly. Max stared at him, taking a moment to let the question sink in. The answer could be easily answered, but she had a feeling that the implications of the question were not what Max wanted them to be. They were far deeper than that, words like "life" and "choices" being intertwined between the lines. She took the easy way out anyway.

"I was with Draco," Max muttered.

"What about now?" Harry asked, deciding to go along.

"I kind of like to walk around here, okay?" Max said, rolling her eyes.

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Yea."

"So was I…" Harry said, trailing off.

"Great," Max said, sarcastically.

"What's your deal?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You."

"What did I ever do?" Harry asked.

"You were born," Max said, nodding.

"That's hardly my fault. And besides, so were you," Harry mused.

"Yes, but people like me," Max said, smirking. Harry just laughed, shaking his head.

"Don't fool yourself, Max," Harry said, glaring.

"I'm not," Max replied, glaring right back.

"I may not talk to you, but I see you. You can never keep peace; you're always fighting."

"That's not true!" Max yelled defensively. He was touching things she wanted to forget, crossing lines she'd been too careless in drawing. Harry saw, perceptive as he was, exactly what had been beating against Max. He also, unlike most, wasn't afraid to speak to the truth about it. He wasn't afraid to tell Max what she knew all along.

"It is; you have no friends," Harry paused. "Unless you count Draco."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Max accused.

"Face it, Max. Slytherins don't have friends. They are heartless bitches who want nothing more than to make everyone else's life a living hell and Max, you're the Queen of them all. You've never had friends and you never will," Harry said, letting all his anger escape through his lips.

"That's not true," Max hissed.

"Oh? Well who have you been _real_ friends with?" Harry asked.

"Why should I tell you?" Max asked, knowing she couldn't tell him. She would never tell him about the friend she'd had before school, the friend she sometimes wished she did have, when things got hard. She wouldn't make that friend real anymore, for he'd faded along time ago. Sometimes things just don't last and Max had moved on

"I can't believe I'm still talking you," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Why not?" Max asked.

"You're a stupid death eater and nothing more," Harry said, glaring. Max shook her head. She couldn't take it anymore. Before Harry could say another word she shot off down the hall, running away to her dorm where nobody could find her. This was just too much.

--

Max slammed the door of her dorm, waking everyone up.

"What are you doing?" Pansy asked.

"Leaving," Max said, packing up a change of clothes into her book bag. She made sure to bring her box of drawings as well.

"For good?" Mercedes questioned.

"You wish. Tell my professors that I'll be back in a day," Max said to Mercury. She nodded.

"What's in the box?" Pansy asked. Max ignored the question.

"Where are you going?" Mercury questioned.

"Anywhere but here."


	20. Can't Let Go

Out on the grounds, just on the outskirts of the forest, there lay a girl. She shivered in her restless sleep, but could not wake up. No youth would want to face the world after sleep, especially when this girl was Max Connors, and her world had never been so twisted before. She rubbed her eyes before dejectedly awaking from a slumber that might as well have not existed with the help it gave her. Her eyes were tired and she refused to move, let alone go find somebody to help her. Especially since she didn't know exactly what she needed help with. She was ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach that appeared every time she heard a rustle in her shrubbery. Her mind traveled back to why she was here. She supposed it was stress. A full fledged death eater, now, and nothing had happened. Then she found out of Draco in the same predicament. What was the point of becoming a follower if there were no orders to follow, no missions to be completed? She was still a bit befuddled about what had every brought her to becoming his girlfriend. What had happened to all that hate? Could it all have been an illusion? Did Max really hate anybody? Maybe she just hated life. Maybe all these bitter feelings have been let out on other people. Maybe Max was just a bitch, and there was nothing else to it. I mean, she had just started befriending Mercury again when Mercedes and her start quarreling. Could she _ever_ stay out of a fight? I mean, maybe Mercedes was some how right. She was just a bitch and nobody really cared. Max sighed. It _was_ true. Draco had tried to be nice to her, and help her figure things out, but she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't open up to him, or he might find out. She could never fully let him know her. Now that she thought about it, there was only one person that ever truly did, and he didn't anymore. Life was falling to pieces and Max needed order. She needed purpose and a catalyst. She did not need help, but she needed to be able to feel good about herself again. She didn't want to have to listen to all the people she used to hold dear tell her how she had nobody. Whether they were lies or not, it was unsure, but Max promised herself then to cling to Draco like never before. He was the only then she had left.

Slowly, the girl let her mind wander. She let her brain trail back to the memory that Harry had interrupted. It was one that had been haunting her for years now, but she had never really gone through it, step by step.

_Max was walking in the hallway, gazing off into space for whatever reason. Then, for the second time that day, Max bumped into someone. _

_"Hey!" she yelled from the ground as she was on her knees. Then, every so slowly, she raised her head to see the familiar pools of green._

_"Sorry!" he said quickly. Max stared at him, watching him ramble, her face showing a look of confusion and anger. Max took a deep breath, a wave of emotion flooding over her. _

_"I can't do this. I'm sorry," she said, standing up. The boy stood up too._

_"What?" he asked._

_"I can't be cruel. I'm really sorry for being mean to you. Can we be friends?" Max asked._

_"Sure, my name is Harry," he said. _

_"My name is Max," Max said, shaking his hand, a shy smile on her face. _

_"Isn't that a boy's name?" Harry asked. Max winced. She hated her name. She always got teased; such a pretty girl, but her name was manly! _

_"Yea, it's a long story," she mumbled, frowning._

_"Alright. I'll just call you Mallory," Harry stated, pleased with himself. Max smiled, nodding. _

_"I like that!" she exclaimed, giving him a side hug. From that day on Mallory Connors and Harry Potter were known as best friends. In a month's time they had all forgotten that her real name wax Maxwell. Mallory soon learned that Harry's parents had died in a freak car accident, so he lived with his cousin, Dudley. They were each other's first real friend. They thought and promised each other that the friendship would last forever, but Mallory's dark future just seemed to get in the way. _

Max sighed. Maybe that's why it hurt so much. She and Harry had been so close. She told herself that she hated him, but thinking about it now, maybe she never really let go. His words has pierced her heart, and somehow every other negative feeling from him toward her had hurt too. She thought he was a muggle, so she didn't tell him. She couldn't. Somehow, they had just forgotten each other. She could never forget, him though. If things were different she would do anything to be his friend again. Anything.

_You're a stupid death eater and nothing more. _

She was more, though. She was a real person with real thoughts and feelings. She just had to hide them. She was sick of it, though. Somehow, being a Slytherin didn't seem so great anymore. In fact, she'd do anything just to talk to Harry. She wished she could just find an excuse the be friends with him. She couldn't, though. There was just no way.

The problem was that despite who she really was, Harry would forever see her as a Death Eater now. Whatever chances she may have had before at going back were long lost. She was trapped, almost, in the choices that she'd made so easily before. Her past, once so pleasant, was catching up to her.

"Everything was so nice back then," she murmured to herself, eyes closed. "What happened? Why is it hurting me now?"

* * *

Don't worry, it only gets better from here. This is when things REALLY start to get interesting. ;)


	21. Be Careful What You Wish For

Another fairly short one, I'm afraid. But also, without a doubt, a very IMPORTANT one.

* * *

Max had been outside far too long to count by now. She didn't want to go back inside the castle until she had the answers to questions she wasn't even sure existed. If she was to ever return to the normal life of a Slytherin she needed to be rooted in facts, sure of everything she was doing. There would be no more fighting, no more confusion, not more _anything_ without a purpose.

There was a rustle in the trees. Max froze. Somebody was there.

"Dammit!" she hissed, getting up. Maybe she'd have to go back sooner than planned.

"Maxwell," a voice said. Max stopped her moving.

"Father?" she asked, not turning to face him. "What are you doing here?"

"Master sent me," he said. "Though I am surprised to find you so easily. Good, though, to not have to bother with McGonagall."

"Master?"

"Our master, Maxwell, The Dark Lord."

"What does he want?" Max asked after a moment of silence. Her brain was reeling faster and faster, adrenaline rising up from the pits of her body. The master had a message for her, something important. This sent fear jolting through her for it could mean one of two things. First she could be punished, a fate Max had been expecting anyway, though certainly not wanting this early on.

Or, he could want something from her.

"He has a mission for you."

"Oh, does he? What would that be?" Max asked, amusement in her voice. She would play it cool with her father, pushing away the excitement that threatened to leak out her voice. It was childish, how happy she felt, but had this not been what she was just asking for? Fate was on her side!

"I've told him you have been friends with the boy-"

"What boy?" Max asked, turning to face her father.

"The Potter boy," her father said, glaring at her for interrupting.

"Why did you tell him that?" Max asked, raising her voice. That was supposed to be a secret. It was a mistake to let her father know, especially if he was going to run off telling people.

"Because you are his follower and he wants Potter dead," the words came out like venom, each one hitting Max hard.

"So I'm to kill him?" Max asked, offended. She wasn't sure if she could do that. Sure, they were enemies now but murderous intentions did not run strong in Max's veins, even towards those she hated.

"No, of course not. In fact, you are to do the exact opposite," Nate Connors said, a twisted smile on his face.

"What?" Max asked.

"You two were once friends, no?"

"Yes, father, but we aren't now. I don't talk to him unless it is ridicule. I mean, once I was taught right.

"Wait. How did you find out about him?" Max questioned, raising an eyebrow, hate etched on every line of her face.

"You spoke highly of a friend from school during your summer before Hogwarts. It was only necessary to pry into your mind and find out who he was. At least it wasn't some muggle, but really, you can do much better," Nate said, glaring.

"Why do you think we aren't friends anymore?" Max whispered, hiding the pain in her voice with ease.

"But you were, and now I, or rather, The Dark Lord, ask you to rekindle this friendship."

"But why?" Max yelled, throwing her hands up.

"He used to trust you. Make him trust you again. Then you will feed our master information about Potter. Eventually we will have enough to kill him, possibly using you as bait," Nate suggested, snickering.

"He already knows who I serve. He won't trust me," Max protested. This was certainly the strangest thing she had ever heard. It was impossible, really. Harry didn't even remember the friendship they'd shared. There was no way to make him befriend her now, after so much hate had ran through them

"Don't make excuses. You're a smart girl. You will figure something out," her father said.

"Of course."

"I'm proud of you. At first I thought you were much to like your mother, but now I see where your true loyalties lie," Max's father said with a smile. She was surprised. He had never been proud of her before, or spoken of her mother, for that matter.

"Thank you," she said truthfully as she nodded.

"I'll be taking my leave now. The Dark Lord is gracious. You have until the end of the year to gather enough information to kill him," with that Nate Connors left, leaving Max alone once more. Well, it looks like she got her wish. Somehow it didn't seem as glamorous as it did before, though.


	22. How?

It seemed that as Max walked into her common room everyone was staring. Was it possible the whole school had been watching her conversation with her father? Was it possible that everybody already knew about the mission she had to accomplish?

Everything seemed to be moving in sluggish motion as reality kicked back in. Today she had to go to class. Today she had to face the world again. Half of her wished she could just go back into the forest, becoming cave woman, and forget everything that had happened in the past seventeen years. The other half scowled, and despised herself for thinking such thoughts. What a blessing! She, Max Connors, was on a mission for the Dark Lord. She could be the key to her master's success. If she could accomplish this one task, this one easy task, then she would be held high. She would be idolized. People would hear her name and think "The girl who helped the Great Dark Lord win the war!" They would shake in fear at her name. They would ponder in awe over how amazing she was. Max Connors would be great. There was no denying it. She just had to complete this one duty. The only question was: How?

Draco's lips pressed hard against Max's. She smirked, feeling more cocky than ever.

"Why'd you leave?" he whispered, biting her ear.

"I was sick of all this drama. Mercedes is such a bitch," Max replied, blurring herself in the essence that was Draco. She smiled, pleased to be with him again. She pondered over what it was about the boy that she enjoyed so much, that calmed her nerves in a way she'd never felt before. It certainly wasn't just because he was a good kisser.

Draco was simple, easy to predict. He was steady, a word she'd used many times before to describe him. He was her rock, her foundation, in who she was and what she was meant for. He held on to her, refusing to let her get loss in the mess of drama and missions.

"But you can handle her, right?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow as his mouth traced her jaw line.

"Duh. Why wouldn't I? Everyone knows I'm much better than she'll ever be. Besides, it's excellent I went away," Max said, her smirk growing wider.

"Why?" Draco asked, his mouth moving down to her neck.

"I met up with my father."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Even he, who had never much bothered to understand Max's relationship with her father, understood that usually a meeting with a parent was not a good thing. Death Eaters never managed to bless their children with praise and good deeds.

"Really? And what did he say?"

"The Dark Lord has a job for me," Max replied, breaking away from Draco just before his mouth reached hers. She strutted over to the stairs, glancing back at him and winking before retreating her room.

"Wait? What's the mission? Max?" Draco called after her. She didn't answer, though. He'd know in time.

--

"Will you please just tell me?" Draco whined as they walked toward breakfast the next day.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's none of your business, Draco!" she laughed. At first she'd been delighted to tell Draco of the mission, and the only reason she withheld was to tease him a bit. Now, Max wasn't so certain. In letting Draco know she was supposed to befriend Potter she'd also risk him knowing exactly why this mission was thrust upon her. It wasn't a risk she was sure she was willing to take. With that she flipped her hair at him and stomped to the Slytherin table to sit my Mercury.

"What was that about?" she asked, taking a bite of her flap jacks.

"Piss off. You don't need to know."

"Whatever," Mercury replied, turning to chat with Pansy.

"Looks like there's trouble in paradise," Mercedes whispered, giggling.

"Shut up," Max retorted, glaring. Mercedes froze. It seemed, that even after her escape to the forest Max could not meld into the way things used to be with her friends. She wondered if she would ever be able to do that again

"Bitch," she muttered. Mercury glared, her face stony.

"You aren't still doing _that_, are you?" she asked, snarling.

"What's it to you?"

"I don't want you disgracing our family name!" Mercury yelled. Of course, that wasn't the real reason. Mercury was deathly worried, but she couldn't show it. She had forgotten how.

"Too late," Max said, snickering. She was ignored, though. Rolling her eyes, Max blocked out the fight that had begun between the two sisters. What did it matter to her? She had better things to think about, such as her duty to The Dark Lord.

--

Draco kissed Max.

Max kissed Draco.

The fight was over.

"You going to tell me now?" he whispered. Max glared, raising her hand to slap him.

"No, you ba-"

"Chill, I was just kidding," Draco said, kissing her once more. "I love teasing you."

"I hate you."

"It's your own fault for being so tense all the time."

"Hey! I have a lot on my mind!" Max defended.

"Like what? The mission?"

"It's a hard mission, okay?" Max said, rolling her eyes. Draco shook his head.

"Whatever you say."

"Just kiss me already," Max ordered, her lips crashing down on his.

How?

**How?**

_How?_

How?

HOW?

Max had been thinking these same thoughts over and over again. Harry was a Gryffindor. Max was a Slytherin. They were two different people. They might have been friends at one point, but things have changed since then. Everything had changed. So how was she supposed to become his friend? It wasn't possible!

Max buried her face in her hands. It _had_ to be possible, or else Voldemort wouldn't have assigned it, right? If anyone could do it, she could. Max was determined. She wasn't giving up. She would gain the trust of Harry James Potter and serve the Dark Lord in any way she could. She had to, of course, or else she could get killed.

--

"Ms. Connors, would you please pay attention," Snape ordered.

"Of course," Max replied, flashing Snape a twisted fake smile.

"Thank you."

Of course, Max wasn't really going to pay attention. What fool would do that? It was really all an act, anyhow. Snape had to shout a _little _at the Slytherins, or it would just be a conspiracy. Not that is already wasn't. Anyhow, Max continued to doze off, her thoughts dancing around the assignment, like they were worshipping it, hoping that one day they'll be able to amount to something as significant as it. It was all just silly, though. Nothing else really mattered now. In fact, one might go as far as to say _nothing_ mattered except for one thing: Harry James Potter.

Wow, who would ever expect _Max Connors _to be saying something like that?

* * *

Because, honestly, font change and arguement are my_ favorite_ part about writing, don't you know?


	23. Shades of Fear

Doubt and worry consumed Max's mind. She had still ceased from telling Draco-or anyone else for that matter-of her mission, of her plans. So, because she could no longer focus on anything else, the mission was all she had been thinking about. In reality, this simply meant Harry. Though Max was still filled with typical Slytherin hate for him, recent events seemed to have open up the wounds of old memories, bringing back a feeling in her heart Max had seldom felt before. She could not describe it, nor did she want to. In fact, Max chose to ignore it, for whatever it was had passed, and there was no need to dwell on unimportant things.

While Max was pondering and plotting, her mind twisting and turning with clever ideas and words, there where those moments when she simply _thought_ of Harry. She remembered old times she had with him, her eyes sparkling with reflections of her heart. These open feelings often confused her, for she had never truly felt them before, at least during her life at Hogwarts. In fact, most of her thoughts just led her to bewilderment, which just made her sick.

Max could vaguely remember a time long ago where emotions where common, and friendship was treasured. Now things where different, though, and Max seemed to have to constantly tell herself she was Slytherin, powerful, and serving Voldemort. Deep in her mind, Max knew this was not for Voldemort. This was for herself. Harry's absence had created a sort of emptiness in her, and she longed for him to fill it. This mission was a perfect excuse to become close to him, to feel loved again, and to experience a true friendship. This reason alone made Max want to drop the deal, the task, all in itself.

It was for two reasons, the minor one being that she simply didn't want to feel like this. It was so much easier before all the thoughts and feelings, and now things just seemed to get complicated. She'd thought, now that she got what she wanted and had a purpose again, that life was more or less go back to normal. Yet, Max was smart enough to know that the closer she got to Harry, the bigger and more complicated things would become. Part of her dreaded this.

The major reason scared her even more. Though Max could not admit it, a minuscule part of her didn't want Harry in danger. Max knew when she accepted the role of a Death Eater it would mean putting Harry in potential danger, and eventually killing him. She never imagined, not in her deepest dreams, that she would play a key part in carrying out this plan. She'd always thought her focus would be more on causing trouble among muggles, ridding the world of those not fit to live in it. She'd never imagined such direct contact with the defeat of Harry Potter. The fact that she was so important scared her, and created a doubt in her mind that no, she didn't want this. She did not want to be the main cause of Harry Potter's death.

This immense feeling of doubt and worry was nothing compared to what the sensible side of Max was feeling. She knew very well that she was already tangled up in a web of lies and deceit; why turn back now? Plus, the feeling of importance when she was congratulated for her works was too great. The longing to be appreciated by somebody important, such as her father, or even Voldemort consumed her, created a pride larger than life itself. This pride had sparked a fire inside of her, and she intended to continue to kindle it, setting out and proceeding with her assignment.

On top of this, there was the constant fear of her punishment, which would be much greater than any congratulations she would get. If Maxwell Connors did not follow through with what was asked of her by Voldemort it would result in death, torture, or worse. Things she could not even imagine awaited her if she did not obey everything asked of her. This caused Max to swell up with fear.

Fear was defiantly the source of all this. She feared for Harry's safety, but in that same sense she feared for her own. Max felt some sort of dirty pride when she knew that there was a selfishness inside of her, and it was making her care more about her own health than Harry's. It almost made her feel normal-her normal-again. Max knew that this fear was making her confused, and she also _feared _that her worry for others would take over the worry for herself. Therefore, at that very moment, Maxwell Connors decided to get rid of all fear. It would be gone. Forever. Her fear would be no more; that was the end of it. No more fear.

--

"Why is it that you never pay attention, Ms. Connors?" McGonagall asked, glaring.

"I do!" Max exclaimed. "Just not to you," she muttered.

"I heard that!" McGonagall screeched.

"What are you going to do about it, huh? You've got nothing on me," Max taunted, smirking.

"I don't know what that mission is of yours is, but I think it's going to your head," Draco whispered, but he could not conceal the smirk on his face.

"Detention, Connors," McGonagall sighed.

"So maybe it has," Max whispered to Draco, rolling her eyes.

"I like it," Draco mused.

"You should," Max laughed, sitting back in her seat. So maybe her ego was overgrown, but this was pride she could no longer hide. The elimination of this _fear_ had brought a whole new level of her out. Everything was good, though, because her focus was defined, her priorities sorted, and she was perfectly sane. For now.

"At the moment she's strong, but who knows when she'll let her weakness show," Mercedes muttered from across the room.

"She lets her walls down much too often."

"I think she might be bi polar!" Mercedes and Pansy giggled, receiving a warning glare from McGonagall.

"She thinks she is _so _tough, but by tomorrow night she'll be at rock bottom."

--

"You've been weird lately." brbr

"Why is that all I ever hear?" Max asked, rolling her eyes. She could handle it for now, though, knowing that in a few days time life would return to normal and hopefully her friends would quit bugging her about her behavior.

"Because it's true! What happened this year?" Mercury asked.

"I don't know," Max lied. "I guess I'm growing up. You're about the see the real Max Connors. She's coming, and you'll never be ready for her," she added with a smirk.

"What are you talking about?" Mercury laughed.

"You thought I was bad before; you have no idea what you're in for," Max said, getting up with a smirk. She swayed her hips, strutting out of the library. She had become as expert at exiting with all eyes on her. With a enigmatic glance back, she saw at least three fourths of the room staring at her.

"Oh, they have no idea."


	24. Irony

_"But-how? I don't understand!" _

_"Oh, you wonder what has happened that would cause a disaster as this to take place? Silly boy, meet your destroyer!" _

_"What?" _

_"Yes, Harry, it's true. You'd never except the sweet little Slytherin to sell you out, would you?" _

_"Mallory!" _

_"Max, Harry. Take me for what I am, not who I pretended to be." _

_"No!" _

_"Yes." _

_"Arvada Kerdava!" _

Max shot up in bed, breathing rapidly. The dream was fresh in her brain, and she was vaguely surprised at the vivid details.

Harry's perplexed face.

Voldemort's twisted smile.

Max's own cold laugh.

Harry' shocked and hurt face.

The tainted love in his voice.

Max's cruel tone, ignoring all his silent pleas.

The look in his eyes as the spell hit him, killing him for good.

The surreal satisfaction of a job well done.

"It was just a dream," she whispered into the dark. Max couldn't truly believe that, though. Honestly, it wasn't just a dream. While those exact events may not play out the way she'd thought them, it was no lie that similar events would take place in the near future. The dream she could easily shake off as nothing, would become a truth nobody was yet quite willing to face

"What was?" Mercury asked, laughing as she opened the curtains, letting the sun beams in. Max blinked, trying to adjust her eyes.

"My dream, of course," she responded, aware that the sudden arrogance of yesterday had faded. Harry's face etched itself in her brain, blurring the image of her friend.

"I see."

"Remember everything I said yesterday?" Max asked.

"Yeah."

"Forget it," Max ordered, laughing.

"Right," Mercury said, grinning. Max got out of bed, threw on some clothes, and walked down to the common room, grabbing a book on the way. She didn't intend on reading it, but rather thinking about her dream and pretending to read.

--

Max couldn't figure it out. Why did that dream bother her so? It was not a premonition, but she knew something similar would be happening in the near future. Why couldn't she just accept that fact and move on? Why was she so hesitant?

When she signed up for the job she knew it would come to this. Her side had been chosen, there was no going back, and Max should have stopped to admit that herself long ago. Maybe if she had, this inner turmoil would not be taking place. Her thoughts where soon interrupted by a voice in her ear.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Max snapped. "I'm just reading!"

"You? Reading? Right. What's really up?" Draco asked, smirking.

"Nothing, I'm just a little stressed, okay?" Max told him, rolling her eyes.

"Over what?"

"The mission," Max grumbled. "I've been blowing it off, and now I really need to focus. I've barely made any progress."

"Ug, please, whatever it is, it can't be that hard!" Draco scoffed. Max glared. Just because she was a fresh Death Eater, not even out of school, did not mean her master could not trust her with a mission if importance. It was true, this mission was of great importance, no matter what Draco chose to believe.

"How would you know? I haven't even told you!"

"Exactly! Maybe you just suck because you can't do anything alone and need my help!"

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I'm doing just fine!" Max said sternly.

"Let's just go to breakfast," Draco muttered. Max obeyed, following him to the great hall. The frown didn't leave her face, though.

--

"Need some help with that?" Draco asked, referring to the pancake Max was cutting.

"No, I'm perfectly capable of cutting a pancake on my own!" Max exclaimed, shocked.

"Are you?" he asked, his voice filled with amusement. Max was finding nothing funny at the time, though, too shaken up by her dreams. Too worried over the future. Maybe she really was losing it.

"Yes! I don't need you all the time, Malfoy! Why can't you just leave me alone for one second?" Max inquired.

"Because you always need me!" Draco yelled.

"Oh contraire, dear friend, I think it is _you_ who always needs me!"

"Bullshit!"

"You're the one who always follows me around!" Max verified.

"That's because you can't last five minutes without me!" Draco accused.

"Yes I can!" Max defended.

"Prove it!" Malfoy hissed.

"Watch me!" with that Max stormed out of the great hall, snarling.

--

What sort of world was Max living in? For the past week she had been in dire need to talk to Harry Potter, and just now she had fought with her boyfriend over nothing! Shaking her head, Max went back to the common room, wondering why nothing ever seemed to help her.

She had ran away from Hogwarts (kind of) and still things were confusing.

She had built up her confidence, but it had just fallen back down.

No matter what happened Max was either confused, fighting with somebody, or wanting things she should never be thinking about. Where was the sense in her life? When did things get so complicated?

_The moment Harry Potter entered her mind. _

Yet, Max knew he was the only solution to the problem. She needed to get close to him in order to break away from him. He had caused this mess, and now she needed him to fix it.

But where to start? Max smirked. It looks like the fights could work to her advantage. With her luck, maybe she wouldn't even have to bring up what had happened seven years ago. It seemed so long ago, but Max knew once memories where brought up they would both be able to rekindle a flame.

_Oh, the irony. _

* * *

Max, in essence, is five. She likes throwing temper tantrums, long pouting sessions in her room, and thinking she only _believes_ is wise beyond her years.

We should really throw her a birthday part or something. Maybe invite a clown.


	25. Back to the Beginning

Harry looked up from his pancakes, ignoring Ginny chattering away in his ear, and watched as Max Connors stormed out of the hall. It had been her first fight with Draco Malfoy since they'd gotten together-well, at least that Harry had noticed. He had this bittersweet feeling it would lead to many more, though. Though Harry hardly took the time to notice, he had concluded that Max fought with _everybody._ That was just fact.

"Harry, love, what is it?" Ginny asked, concern etched on her face as her hand touched his.

"Nothing. Just got lost in thought," Harry answered, flashing a genuine smile. Her concern touched him, and made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside-just like it was supposed to. The thing that bothered him was, it felt fake. Beneath all the infatuation and puppy love was just a bunch of anger and annoyance at her apprehension. Why was she so damn _clingy?_

"What where you thinking about?" Ginny inquired, eyes sparkling with curiosity. Harry paused.

"You," he whispered in her ear, which resulted in a giggle from Ginny. Because it wasn't that he didn't like Ginny. In fact, he would be devastated if they ever broke up. That's why it was so horrible that he was lying to her. That's why it was so horrible the anger he sometimes felt towards her, the annoyance that Harry tried to forget about, the way he put her in the backseat.

Inside Harry felt sick. He had _not_ been thinking about Ginny, but Max. Was there no sincerity in his relationship? Could it be that every word he said was so filled with fake passion that whatever they used to have had just developed into one huge lie? Harry grinned, shaking his head. Of course not. He had always been fond of Ginny, and now that the hormones had kicked in it was obvious they where meant for each other. Right?

"You two are _so gross!"_ Ron retorted, snarling.

"Better together than apart," Hermione said back, winking. She had a point. If Harry where to ever do anything to hurt Ginny he was positive Ron would never forgive him. What a pleasant thought to remember when Harry felt as if all he did was hurt Ginny, however unintentional it may be.

"Well, it's not like Ron's opinion matters anyhow," Ginny commented. Harry laughed. She was always so resistant to Ron's attempt to be the big brother and overrule her. Ginny was fierce, but gentle, powerful, but meek. Harry was surprised everybody didn't love her. Well, actually, everybody _did_ lover her. Everybody except him.

--

Had it been so long since Harry had been out after hours that he no longer knew his way around in the dark? The thought startled him, along with a great fear of getting caught. After all, Harry was much more susceptible to walk straight into a teacher when he had no idea where he was. The boy scolded himself for walking with no intentions of ending anywhere. This was how people got lost. This was how people _died._

"You're not going to die," Harry muttered to himself, rolling his green eyes.

"Shame."

"Who's there?" Harry shouted, turning around on his heal.

"Relax, Potter. It's just me," Max Connors said, stepping out from the shadows. Harry raised an eyebrow. She was wearing incredibly short shorts along with a tank top that was much to low. Over it was a loose, thin sweatshirt, but that was falling off her shoulder anyhow. Hair a mess, and face without any make up Max looked very much like she had just come back from doing drugs. It wouldn't be surprising.

"What are you doing?"

"These are the dungeons, Potter. I'm going to my common room," Max said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Damn. It was. Harry had somehow trotted his way into the dungeons. What. An. Idiot.

"Why are you out so late?" Harry shot at her, trying to find some fault.

"That, my friend, is none of your business," Max said, narrowing her eyes. Unexpectedly, Harry recoiled.

"Fine," he muttered, walking as quickly as he could to get past Max and find his way back to his common room. Max was in his way, though.

"Sorry," they both muttered, and at the same time they moved to the right.

"Oops," they said again, moving to the left. Harry groaned, wondering how he ended up in these situations. Did fate really hate him enough to have him dancing around Max Connors in the middle of the night, like it was some overrun script?

"Okay, freeze," Max groaned. She placed her hands on his shoulder in an attempt to move him, but Harry jumped, alarmed. Max rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to bite."

"Yeah, well-"

"What are you doing up anyhow?" Max asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Thinking," Harry slipped out. Inside, he beat his fists against the walls of his brain. He was having trouble remembering that Max was a Death Eater, a traitor, not a friend. After seeing her drawing, despite the way she said and acted, Harry felt himself wavering on the hate he had felt so strongly for her before

"I see."

"I saw you and Malfoy fight today-"

"Oh, please tell me you're joking?" Max asked, sighing as she fell to the ground.

"No can do. I don't lie," Harry said, glaring. Max frowned.

"I didn't mean to get so angry!" she exclaimed. "He just.."

"Hey! I probably would have done the same," Harry cooed, shrinking down to her level.

"Exactly my point!"

"Don't fuss over it. I'm sure it'll all work out," Harry comforted, a chuckle in his voice.

"If you say so," Max said, wiping her eyes. Harry was taken aback. Had she been crying? Was is possible Max did actually _liked_ Malfoy?

Harry winced. It was even harder to hate her now, seeing her so venerable. He'd never noticed her to have emotions like this before and it brought her a level down from her high Slytherin pedestal. She was almost human.

"Why don't you get some rest. You don't look so good," Harry suggested, holding his hand out to help her up.

"You'll never get a girl that way, Potter," Max retorted, but she took his hand nonetheless.

"I've got one already; I don't need another," Harry snapped with more anger than he intended. His face softened when he thought he caught Max's frown. Had she really just being joking with him, like a friend would? Blinking his eyes, Harry looked back at her face to see the similar scowl. Nothing different then before.

"Well, I better be off," Max sighed, releasing Harry's hand and turning to leave.

"Bye."

"Oh, Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," Max said, turning around and flashing him a smile.

"You're welcome," Harry called after her, and then he just stood there, befuddled. Max had thanked him. Max Connors had thanked him. What was the world coming to?

As Max turned away from Potter her smile faded into a scowl. That whole event with Potter was painful, and she had to stop herself from yelling at him. After a few moments of brooding Max smirked. She had him right where she wanted him. He was playing into her hand like a baby. Everything was going perfect. _Just perfect. _


	26. If Only He Knew

Distractions are the worst type of hell, especially when you need to make a slight attempt to keep up with the homework you've been neglecting because your mind has been so focused on the mission given to you be the Dark Lord, that anything other than that seems unworthy, therefore causing your academic career to fall apart.

Of course, it's very rare that you will find a person who hates these sorts of distractions, for not many people fit the profile previously described. Yet, in the rare occasion that you do find somebody-especially a young woman-who fits this eccentric description than it would be quite prudent to keep Draco Malfoy away from her.

"Draco, stop!"

"Why should I? You have to make up for that fight yesterday!"

"Oh, no, boy," Max Connors said, her tone testy. "It is _you_ who have to make up for that fight. Why, Malfoy? Because _you_ started it!" She paused to catch her breathe, staring at him determinedly. "And because I have this thing called homework that happens to be eating me from the inside out."

"Well, I can do that!" Draco exclaimed, taking another go at her neck, nibbling and kissing it. He decided, long before Max had said it, to completely ignore the bit about homework. He'd do it for her later if he had to, being the wonderful boyfriend that he was. Max groaned, but whether this was out of pleasure or annoyance Draco couldn't be sure.

"Stop," Max growled.

"Why should I?" Draco asked.

"Because I have work to do! I have to keep some sort of potential in this school, unadorned as it is," Max elucidated. Draco huffed.

"Whatever. We missed a whole day of time that could have been spent together," Max rolled her eyes, knowing he was not so much interested in the together of it, but rather the together that their lips would be. Not that she was interested in anything different. "And now I'm simply trying to get my daily fill of Max, which, by the way, has been very rudely neglected for almost _two_ days now!"

Max sighed exasperatedly, mentally noting that she had to add "Draco time" to her list of daily activities. Under Harry time, Draco time, vicious friend time, and pondering over her future as a death eater time, homework seemed to be falling meekly into last place, a position it did not tend to like very much. However, Max was certain her professors would like it even less.

"Your extensive vocabulary amuses me, Draco, but honestly, I'm tired and have this work to do. I can't possibly make time in my demanding late night schedule for you, especially with Blaise waiting upstairs-"

"Don't play me like that. I don't like being played, even if it is a joke," Draco ordered, slumping in his seat. Max raises an affronted eyebrow.

"Chill out," she said, eying him with concern.

"Why should I?"

"Because I'm not playing you?" Max suggested, a scowl forming on her face.

"Don't lie."

"Why shouldn't I?" Max mimicked. Draco was lucky she was tired of fighting, because if she wasn't he'd be dead. What was all this strange defensiveness for anyway? Where exactly was it coming from? All the same he emitted a low growl from his throat.

"Oh, come on, I know about you and Potter!" Draco finally spilled. Max snorted.

"What? Me? Potter? You must be drugged, Malfoy; I would never come within five feet of Potter," Max proclaimed, spitting his name out like dirt. "In fact, I'm significantly insulted that you'd think I'd sink so low as to do anything more than hex that vermin. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to retreat to my room where I can't be bothered by _you," _Max hissed, snatching up her things and stomping toward the stairway. She had masked her fright well, having not realized she'd have to deal with Draco's suspicions on top of Harry's-not to mention her own. There were so many people expecting things of her, each one as different as the next. How was she supposed to keep up?

"I heard him talking about you. He's hinted contact. I told you not to lie," Draco taunted. Max froze. He had been talking about her? She gradually turned around, facing Draco's smug face.

"What was he saying?" Max spoke slowly, trying to filter out the unexplained eagerness she felt creeping into her voice. She sounded cool and indifferent, but she could not ignore the excitement flowing through her veins. In any other position she would have been greatly disturbed to be feeling such discomfited emotions, but ever since her conversion to the dark side it seemed all feelings were tipped upside-down. Things were immensely different now.

"He said he ran into you. _Late at night. _He said that your standard hostility had turned into vulnerability, almost like you had real emotions. Almost like you were actually _nice._ Why would that be, Connors? You fight with me and then go make friendly with Potter. I thought you'd chosen sides," Draco mused, his voice laced with accusation. Max's eyebrows came together, making it obvious she was pondering something, but Draco was restless. She'd have to think fast while talking. Fortunately, for a Slytherin this came almost naturally.

"I have!" Max defended.

"Oh really? Doesn't look like it!" Draco alleged.

"That's because you aren't really looking. There's a lot about me that you don't know, Draco," Max whispered.

"Only because you don't tell me," Draco retorted. Max didn't respond for a few moments, knowing his was right. Her face was crunched together in deep consideration. After a few more moments, she finally spoke.

"Why, Draco, I think it's time I told you my mission."

--

Draco stared blankly at his girlfriend, feeling quite unresponsive to Max's explanation.

"So you mean to tell me that last night's-and any other-encounters with Potter are faulty?" he asked. Max nodded.

"What else would they be?"

"Well-" Draco paused. "I must admit it's a bit uncanny, and I don't understand why the Dark Lord picked you of all people, but I ought to say that I'm impressed," Draco concluded, smirking. Max smirked back, once again ignoring his questions about why she was chosen specifically. That part she never would share with Draco, with anybody, and her intentions would not waver the same way her desire to share her mission with Draco did.

"I thought you would be. I've got Potter right where I want him."

"You know, it's a good thing you told me; now that I know I won't be so angry when you start talking with Potter," Draco decided.

"You have to _act_ angry, of course," Max told him. He nodded.

"This should be interesting. I knew you were a good actor," Draco stated. He was feeling very superior now that he'd found logic to Max's alleged betrayal. She just raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Things were turning out better than she'd expected.


	27. Don't You Know Who I Think I Am

So, perhaps the title of this chapter is a Fall Out Boy Song. Perhaps, that may be a little lame. It also happens to be my favorite chapter title thus far. And believe me, there are some pretty alright chapter titles. But this one...this one says "Max's identity crisis" all over it. It's like a midlife crisis except...not in the middle of her life.

Unless I intend to kill her anytime soon.

* * *

As Max sauntered into the Great Hall she pondered over what her next plan of action would be. She had successfully planted the seed in Harry's head, and Malfoy was no longer a problem. In fact, she could probably use him to her advantage. Now she had to figure out how to get closer to Harry. Mentally Max went over the girls Harry had dated before. There was a sad amount of only two: Cho Chang and Ginny Weasley. Max was briefly reminded that Harry was currently dating Ginny, but that wasn't a problem. Ginny had been known to move on quickly, and with her feisty attitude she wouldn't settle if Harry got even the least bit distracted. Especially if Max was doing the distracting. But how was Max to efficiently distract..?

Ginny and Cho were essentially very similar. They were pretty, emotional, caring, innocent, sweet, and tainted by things that they should have never been shown. Max could be all of that. She was, of course, gorgeous, and it was plain that she had already shown Harry her emotional side. Acting sweet and innocent would be simple; what could be easier? Max smiled wickedly. She had defiantly seen things nobody should ever be shown. Add a lot of flirting to her mixture, and she was Harry's perfect mate. So with new found courage and virtue, Max sat down next to Draco.

Draco, in turn, put his arm around Max, eyeing her suspiciously.

"You're aloof today."

"Shush. I'm focusing," she muttered, grinning a dazzling smile.

"On what?" Draco demanded.

"Harry," Max breathed, just as he glanced over. How ironic it was that she could say his name so innocently now, as if it completely normal to focus on Harry Potter, of all people. She looked down, using her hair the shield the blush that was not there. Draco glared at Harry, who quickly turned away. He put on his best angry face, whispering in Max's ear.

"You're good." At this Max turned her cocky smile into a fake embarrassed one, glancing up at Harry again. She made an effort to look disdainful and hopeless. In a few minutes Harry was looking at her again. She didn't turn away this time, but locked eyes with him, pouring out emotion. At this moment Crabbe, Goyle, Mercedes, Mercury, Blaise, and Pansy were walking toward her, so she shook her head and broke away from Harry. She caught Draco sending him an angry look. How lucky it was that they were all being such perfect actors today. It was as if fate wanted this for her, for the world, and so it placed the events perfectly into place.

"You're all down here early," Mercury commented. Max shrugged, fazing out of her act for Harry and back into the comfort of being a Slytherin. She found she didn't know which one was easier to be.

"What's it to you?" she asked, scowling.

"Just saying. Only the prude Gryffindors come down early. So they won't be late for _class,"_ Mercury teased. _Exactly, _Max thought as she laughed with the group.

"Well, wouldn't want to miss potions, now would we?" Draco mocked.

"Ha, good one," Crabbe noted, laughing obnoxiously. Max rolled her eyes. Malfoy's goons were undeniably idiots, even for goons.

"Haha, I bet Connors just wanted some alone time with Malfoy," Blaise snickered. Max glared at him, but her eyes were teasing.

"Jealous?" Draco questioned, raising an eyebrow. Blaise opened his mouth, but Pansy cut him off.

"I don't know why the two of you would need any more alone time. You're like a package deal; I never see one without the other."

"Awww. Cute," Mercedes taunted. Max rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to retort, when she noticed Potter and the trio leaving. Momentarily she put on her façade, making sure to fog up her eyes as she stared at Potter leaving. He seemed to notice, because just before he walked out he glanced in her direction, mild shock on his face when he saw her. Surprisingly, he smiled. Fighting back a smirk, Max winked before turning away, embarrassed.

"Max? What was with that?" Mercury asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking about alone time with Draco," Max said sarcastically. She'd spent the night before thinking of excuses and ways to divert the attention away from her acting. She had to remember that her Slytherin friends did not know about the job she'd been given, and therefore wouldn't be pleased to find her making googly eyes with Potter.

"Serious?" Goyle asked. Draco snorted.

"No," Max said, rolling her eyes. "Now if you don't mind I think I'm going to have to leave my second half. Come on, Mercury," Max ordered. Mercury snickered, but got up

and followed Max out of the hall.

--

"Thank God Snape likes me," Max mumbled, purposely trying to mess up her potion.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, furrowing his brow.

"I'm a damsel, Draco. I'm failing potions!"

"Why?"

"What else am I supposed to do?'

"Obviously you don't know how to be a damsel at all," Draco muttered, shaking his head.

"Not surprising," Max growled, throwing something in the bubbling cauldron. One minutes till class was over. Max sighed. Thank God. For the past hour she'd been sneaking not-so-secret glances at Harry, and working her best to make a potion that would explode. She found it far more difficult to purposely screw up a potion rather than do it right. How did stupid Gryffindors like Longbottom do this so often? Now that class was almost over, Max tossed some roots in, stepped back, and waited.

"Five. Four. Three. Two," Max was cut off by a loud explosion of purples smoke.

"Max!" Draco growled, glaring at her. Max did her best to put on a shocked and hurt look. It was hard to be unhappy when inside she was squealing for joy. Class ended then, each student hurrying out as fast as possible before Snape got nasty.

"Connors, stay and clean this up," Snape grumbled, telling Neville to do that same.

"See ya, Babe," Draco muttered, picking up his bags and kissing her on the lips. Max paid no attention, but instead kept her eyes open, staring at Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom cleaning up their own mess. _Perfect_

Max hurried to clean up her muddle, smiling at the Transfiguration book Draco had left behind. The plan was going to perfectly. Better yet, Harry was taking the attempted discrete glances all the right ways. Just as Max finished she glimpsed at Harry once more, biting her lip. It was meant to look shy, but really Max was just preparing herself to act nice to Potter. Despite all the parts of her that found this acting business easy it was still natural to snap at Potter. His presence she was still finding annoying. Carefully she walked toward him.

"Potter?" she asked.

"What do you want, Connors?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Max said, trying to be innocent without losing too much dignity.

"So talk," Harry said, not looking at her.

"Not here," Max leaned in, whispering. "Later. Tonight. On the roof?" she said, making sure her voice cracked from nervousness at the end. Harry opened his mouth, but at that very moment Draco stormed in.

"Forgot my-Max?" he inquired, glaring.

"Draco!" Max breathed.

"What are you doing with Potter of all people! And smiling? I told you I don't like to be played," Draco growled, picking up his forgotten book.

"I wasn't playing. And you know it!" Max growled back, sneering. Draco grabbed her arm, roughly pulling her out of the room.

"Screw the potion. I'm not leaving you alone with Potter," Draco hissed.

"I didn't ask to be alone with him!"

"Not like you didn't want it, you whore!" Draco's voice was menacing.

"Malfoy! Leave her alone!" Harry called out. As Max turned around she felt a bubble of pleasure arise. How lucky it was that he was so easy for read. He had his wand out too! Draco mirrored his position.

"Don't even think about it Potter. This is none of your business," Draco snarled.

"It is when you're hurting innocent people. Max didn't do anything!"

"Which means you probably were. Leave my girlfriend alone, Potter. I swear if I catch you with her one more time-"

"Draco!" Max pleaded, tugging on his sleeve. "Let's just go."

"Stay away," Draco ordered, sneering as he lowered his wand and stomped out the door, Max on his tail.

"That was PERFECT!" Max smirked.

"It was strangely amusing. Poor little Potter," Draco goaded.

"He believed every word," Max clicked her teeth. The plan was going so well.

"Want me to catch you two together tonight?"

"No," Max shook her head. "I can do this without your help all the time."

"Oh?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Harry Potter's naïve. He's easy to fool, but we don't want to push it," Max stated matter-of-factly.

"You seem to know him pretty well," Draco pointed out. Max almost froze. She bit her lip.

"I just know his type," she murmured, picking up her pace.


	28. With Me Tonight

**Disclaimer: **The Potterverse belongs to J.K.R. and I take no credit for the world she's created. However, there are some characters that are mine so don't steal, please.

* * *

As Max walked towards the roof-where she would meet Harry-she was uncertain of what she was doing. It's like her subconscious was thinking for her; her conscious self had given up and something deeper and stronger was taking control. Was it fate leading her footsteps in the right direction by now, or was it something more sinister, her master making sure she followed through with her end of the bargain. Her thoughts were blank to the point where she didn't even realize where she was going, and she definitely didn't realize what she was holding.

The rooftop air was chilling; Max shivered before sitting down and opening the chest. She stared at it for a long while, eyes sweeping over the texture and designs, but never into it. Drawing was a part of her past; the only reason her box was sitting on the roof was to add to the act. That's it. Her past was _not_ going to resurface, and Max would do anything to make sure it stayed dead. Her intentions were clear, but disbelief chilled her blood in a way that had nothing to do with the cold night. Why was it that nothing every played out the exact way that was expected? At that moment she felt a body sit down beside her, making her jump.

"What-oh, it's just you," Max mumbled.

"You sound so disappointed," Harry grumbled back.

"Sorry," Max retorted. Harry didn't reply and it was soon silent. Max sighed, staring up into the starry sky. Somewhere out there was the truth Max thought she knew. Somewhere out there was life, something clear as water and bright as the stars she stared profoundly into.

As time went on, though, everything became more distant, reality twisted, and her thoughts weren't here thoughts anymore. She wasn't Max Connors anymore; she was turning into somebody else, somebody she used to be, somebody she promised herself she would never see again: Mallory.

"So why did you want me to come here?" Harry asked.

"I just," Max grinned, looking up at Harry from under her eyelashes. It was too easy. "I just wanted to talk," she said, her voice laced with silk and sweetness.

"About what?"

"Just talk," Max mumbled, lazily swiping hair from her face. Couldn't he accept that? Was it not he who had invited her to see earlier that same year, sending her letters that made her insides crawl. If only she'd known Voldemort's plans then, things could have been easier. Sighing, Max found it was lucky he even came in the first place. After thinking about it, what reason did he really have for being there?

"Oh," Harry muttered, casting a gaze at the sky. Max saw her chance and pounced.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Max cooed.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, laying down on the roof. Max followed his lead, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him.

"Peaceful, almost," she mused.

"Almost?"

"It's like being above reality, but the fact that reality lives just below us is enough to damper one's mood," Max recited, pushing as much emotion into her voice as possible. She'd practiced things to say for two hours before this moment, wanting to lure Harry as completely as possible. Harry's eyes lit up with emotion, a smile creeping onto his face.

"That was-"

"Weird, huh?" Max joked, smirking. Harry laughed, his glasses shaking. Max reached out toward him, but he shrank back.

"What are you doing?" he questioned.

"Hexing you!" Max hissed, but followed it up with a smile. "Just relax," she muttered, taking off his glasses.

"Hey!" Harry complained. Max scrunched up her face, handing him his glasses back.

"I think you look better with them on," she informed. "But I still wanted to try." Harry's eyes rolled, a scowl on his face.

"And you don't look good at all," he teased. Max glared, shoving him in what was meant to be a playful way. However, Harry winced and it was as if he was suddenly reminded who he was with. Max had broken the trance he was in; the hateful tension had returned.

Her eyes hard, she searched his own, direly looking for a place in his heart she could reach out too. He rejected her, though, sitting up and glaring at the moon. Max sighed; the task was going to be harder than she thought. Her and Harry's relationship wasn't steady-there was no way to make it so they got along perfectly. Max was his enemy in all ways possible, and even if he didn't think of her that way Max hated him as well. Even she couldn't lie perfectly.

Harry's eyes seemed to glance around the area, never once meeting Max's, and it wasn't until he spotted the chest did he speak. Something stirred and inwardly Max thanked the gods she'd thought to bring it.

"Connors?"

"Yes, Potter?" Max replied curtly.

"Why don't you like to draw?"

"Haven't I already explained this to you?" Max retorted, but she was ignored.

"I used to have a friend that drew," he commented nonchalantly. For a brief moment Max froze, her breathe getting caught in her throat. She struggled for a moment to regain composure before speaking, making sure her voice was smooth and would not break from fear of being found out.

"And that's the reason I don't."

"You're very good, though," Harry complimented. Max grunted.

"You don't understand anything." At this comment Harry's temper flared.

"Of course I do-"

"No," Max cut off. "We leave in two different worlds, Potter. These worlds don't mix."

"Come on, Max, you can't believe that," Harry coaxed, sympathy lacing his voice.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because if you really didn't like drawing the chest wouldn't keep appearing, and if the two worlds really didn't mix then you wouldn't be hear with me," Harry stated, a smug look on his face.

"Yes I would," Max sighed, panic rising up in her chest. If Harry found out the truth-

"Then why are you here?" brbr

"I-" but Max didn't have an answer. She slumped her shoulders, swiping some hair away from her face. She'd done it now. In a struggle to save her own secret she'd lost forever the chance to accomplish her mission, for the light in Harry's eyes was not a realization she wished him to have.

"Oh." Harry growled. She glanced up at him, confusion written on her features. "You know, Connors, I'm not stupid. Did you really think I was going to fall for your little trick?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Max lied, but her heart was feeble. How could she have let this happen? How could she have let her own agenda get in the way of the Dark Lord's? It was her own selfishness that caused this, this disaster life had thrown upon her.

"You're a death eater; how could I have forgotten? I really didn't believe you were one, but I see it now-"

"You have no proof!" Max exclaimed.

"I do. I just saw marks on your wrist. You can't hide it anymore."

"Harry," Max pleaded. The truth was coming out, and Max could only think of one thing that would change Harry's mind about her. He was already getting up, preparing to leave, but Max wished she didn't have to do this. This was inexcusable, horrid, a mistake.

"What? I guessed right, didn't I? You're here to get close to me-to feed information to Voldemort. You won't get away with this."

"You don't get it!" Max yelled, pleading with herself to not do this. She'd just tell Voldemort she couldn't get anything out of him; he saw right through her. Anything to not do this. Unfortunately, Max was quickly losing control over her mouth, but whether it was out of fear of The Dark Lord's actions or that fact that he just didn't to know Max wasn't sure.

"I get it," Harry answered, his figure retreating. Something was rising in Max's throat, a desperate attempt to save her skin. Her vows had to be broken in order for the most important one to stay in tact along with her life. The long would match up with the gain eventually, she tried to force herself to belief.

It didn't really matter what she thought, though. It seemed that the outcome of the night had already been planned before Max got here, an unknown force taking the situation into its own hands. Max bit her lip, voice cracking as she spoke the words that would lead her to fate.

"I'm Mallory."

* * *

**A/N: **Gasp! Whatever will happen next?


	29. Removing the Mask

**Disclaimer:** Everything is J.K.R.'s

**A/N: **And it is the moment we've all been waiting for! yay!

* * *

"I'm Mallory."

_What?_

"How?" Harry demanded, glaring at Max.

"Is your memory really that bad that you could never see it? It was right in front of you, Harry. How stupid could you get?" Max questioned, raising her eyebrows. Things were coming out of her mouth that she couldn't control. Things she never meant to tell him but always wanted to say…

"You can't be Mallory. You're too.."

"Heartless?" Max suggested. "Thanks, Harry. I really appreciate it," she cooed, shaking her head. Harry stared in disbelief.

"How can you prove it?" he asked.

"Do you remember the first day we met?" she questioned.

"Yes. And I thought Malfoy was bad.." he trailed off.

"No, Potter, the first time you met Mallory," Max sighed. Harry paused, thinking back.

"I do," he admitted, remembering how horrible she was at first. Suddenly it all fell into place. How could he have not seen it before? The similarities, not only in appearance, were right in front of him, literally. Mallory had grown, sure, but her eyes remained the same dark shade of blue, her hair still black as his and just as messy. Her face had gotten leaner, but the angles were similar enough to send chills down his spine.

Similarities in personality were evident, as well. Though when he knew her Mallory had not yet developed a bitch syndrome she shared the same snarky attitude, controlling personality, and unmistaken passion.

"See?" she asked, voice weak in the moonlight.

"You are her. You are my Mallory," he exclaimed, reaching out to grab her hand. She evaded him, slipping into the shadows.

"I'm not your Mallory anymore, Potter. I am Max Connors," she said, emotion drained from her voice.

"They're the same person!" Harry defended.

"No, Harry. Mallory was a girl who was just trying to fit in, kill some time before life started for her. She died the moment I stepped on the train to Hogwarts," Max exclaimed, eyes boring into Harry's. She hated telling him these things, because she knew that by letting the truth out the both of them were only going to get hurt.

"So you just used me, knowing fully who I was, and then dumped me when you would have the chance to please your father?" Harry inquired. "I should have hated you all along."

"No, Harry, I'm not the bad friend here," Max confirmed. "My father didn't tell me anything about the wizarding world until school. I knew nothing of who you were or why you were there. It was you, who left me. It was you who forgot."

"You could have made me remember," Harry muttered.

"It was too late! You promised we would be friends forever. What did you plan on doing, Potter? Leaving your only friend for a new world of magic? Face it, the moment you got your letter I became I silly muggle," Max played her words carefully, making sure to twist the truth just enough to make Harry feel guilty enough not to rat her out.

"You recognized me, though," was his only defense. It was a good one too, and had Max not been as determined as she was it might have worked. Had Max not been Max she would have lost right there. A Connors did not give up so easily, though.

"It was too late. Mallory was a silly façade I had to leave behind. It was time to become who I was meant to be," Max explained, raising her head.

"Then what are you doing here?" Harry asked, shaking his head. He knew who she was meant to be, hated it with every piece of his being. He was not sure, however, if who she was meant to be was who she was. If so, what was she doing here? Unless Harry had been right, of course, and she was trying to get information out of him.

"I don't know!" Max cried, surprised at the truth in her words. She immediately tried to make up an excuse. "I guess I saw some of the Harry I used to know for a moment, but let's face the music, Potter. The magic changed you; we can't be anything more then enemies," Max stated, glaring. She was vaguely aware of the fact that she was slowly killing any chances she had of befriending the boy, completing her mission. None of that mattered now; it was just her and Harry. Voldemort, the outside world, it was all forgotten, consumed by the reunion of friendship. It should have been bittersweet for them, but somehow the sweet was lost among the hate that bounced between their bodies, tearing them apart

"And it didn't change you?" Harry replied.

"I know my place," was her response.

"So you're willing to forget all that we had, all the promises we made-"

"And you broke," Max interrupted, but she was ignored.

"For a life of being a Death Eater?" he asked.

"Do you think I ever wanted this?" Max yelled, the words flowing more truthfully then she ever knew. She couldn't remember it ever being like this. She couldn't remember ever feeling so much chagrin. "I do what is expected of me."

"Really?" Harry asked. "Because I expected more from you, Mallory," and with that he turned on his heel and left.

"I'm not Mallory!" she called after him, but it was no use. He was already gone.

--

Max slumped against the wall, the world crushing down on her. How did things end up like this? Not only did she ruin all chances of completing the mission, but she wasn't even sure if she wanted to do it anymore. She buried her head in her hands, talking to herself.

"I have to," she spoke with determination. "I've no other choice."

The truth coming out with Harry had also opened some fresh wounds. She's forgotten how much it hurt when Harry had forgotten her, breaking his promise. Max had become skilled at hiding all emotion and not caring about things that didn't matter, but she was slowly learning that the friendship she had with Harry _did _matter.

"Had," she repeated. "I don't have it anymore," she confirmed. "But I will," was added as an afterthought.

And she wasn't sure if she was happy about that or not.


	30. Almost Easy

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing here aside from Max and the plot. Most of everything else...basically everything belongs to J.K.R.

**A/N:** WELL between chapter 29 and 30 I took like a 6 months hiatus in writing this story in between that time I had a sort of "writing growth spurt" so most of the chapters here on out are fairly recent and therefor fairly decent and therefor three times as long! Fun, huh? And this, my friends, is where the story REALLY starts...

* * *

Quietly, Max began packing. She wasn't certain of what to bring with her to the Malfoy Manor, but there was already so much going on in her mind that it was almost impossible to think of anything pertaining to the moment. For one, it had been a week since her encounter with Harry, and she'd not spoken to him since then. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seem him, or he'd paid her any attention. At first, she'd tried to tell herself he just needed time, and that eventually he'd come around. How could a hero like Harry Potter ignore a lost cause such as Max Connors? Yet, as far as she was concerned, he'd forgotten about her completely.

This was a concern she had not yet expressed with Draco; maybe if she didn't admit to failure she could twist the truth just enough to give off the illusion she was making some progression. As the moment where she would be seeing her father, along with her master, was quickly approaching, the fear inside her was burning stronger than ever before. It was almost a physical pain to continue going on without doing anything to accomplish her mission. From her bedside, Max picked up the letter she had received only two days ago.

_Dear Max, _

_It has been a while since we have spoken, I know, but I would just like to keep you informed of the upcoming plans. As decided before, you shall be spending your Christmas break with the Malfoys, and during this time I will be staying with them as well. I understand that they are very busy people, and somebody needs to keep an eye on you. Along with this, you will be expected to attend a dinner that will include a few of the more important Death Eaters, and most importantly, the Dark Lord. At this dinner our Master will be expecting the latest updates of your mission, and I can only hope you'll have something worth while to tell him. I look forward to hearing from you, and give Draco Malfoy my best wishes. _

_-Nate Connors. _

At this Max's stomach churned, the fear gaining energy. What exactly was she to tell Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard of all time? She could not simply admit that she had failed completely. He would surely kill her, for it was a rare occasion she was useful anyhow. He did say she had until the end of the year, but without any progress made now how could he expect anything better? Max was new to this, after all.

The raven haired beauty threw some more clothes into her suitcase, and then, quite suddenly, her foot hit something hard. Frowning, Max bent down to pick up the object, and then examining the room carefully, picked it up. She traced her fingers over the treasured box, debating whether it should be taken along with her.

It could no longer be denied that this box was important to her, but exactly how much was she willing to risk to keep it with her? While after meeting the Dark Lord petty Slytherin habits seemed unimportant, there was still a part of Max that clung to her childish superiority over the rest of her house. She stood at a crossroads, feeling sick at the thought of being torn between two such insignificant things. Still undecided, Max was interrupted as somebody walked in through the door. Swiftly, Max threw some clothes over the box and turned to face her visitor.

"Mercury," she stated, eyeing her friend carefully.

"What are you doing?" inquired Mercury, glancing at the pile of clothes Max was currently sorting through.

"Packing," uttered Max, sitting down upon her bed. "You know I'm spending break with Draco."

"I do," drawled Mercury, sighing. "I still think it's weird, but how could anybody not know with the way you two act?"

"How are you spending this Christmas?" questioned Max as she rolled her eyes, averting the topic of her boyfriend.

"Probably dealing with Mercedes," sighed Mercury, who, in turn, scowled at her sister's bed.

"Still up to it?" assumed Max, smirking with a raised eyebrow. Mercury glared, her face becoming hard.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"Why not? I'm sure you're telling Pansy all the dirty details," teased Max, laughing harshly.

"I am most certainly not. Who in their right mind would tell Pansy anything of importance?"

"I don't know," Max sighed, and then added, "She still obsessed over Draco?"

"Of course. _That_ annoying little habit will probably never cease."

"Wow, if I had to listen to Parkinson go on about him than _I_ might start hurting myself," Max spoke sarcastically.

"Look, it's nothing to joke about. Mum and Dad don't know what to do with her. Normal witches don't go through this," sighed Mercury, sitting down on her own bed.

"I'm sure they don't. I'd just be careful, you know, people might start talking. You wouldn't want to give yourself a bad name, would you?" asked Max, speaking carefully.

"What? Like Connors is anything better," huffed Mercury, rolling her eyes. Max laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You won't be saying that for long. Besides, I can only imagine the mess you'll be distracted with in the next few months. I would hate to be you facing your parents, especially-"

"Mercury?" came as whole from the doorway. Sighing tiredly, the red head turned to face her sister.

"What?"

"Pansy wanted," Mercedes paused, glancing at Max, who sat with her arms crossed and a face formed in a look of cruel curiosity. "Never mind, I'm sure she'll be fine."

Max laughed, pleased to see that the lesser twin was falling, letting her fear show through. It made Max feel a bit proud; it was only now becoming clear that she was stronger than most students on this castle. She was keeping her composure far better than Mercedes, and there was no doubt in the fact that Max had far worse things to worry over.

"Don't get too depressed, Mercedes," Max called after the retreating figure. With that she got up, turned towards the pile of clothes still hiding her chest, and threw everything she still had out in her suitcase. Clicking it shut, Max turned around to Mercury's penetrating gaze.

"I don't know what people are talking about when they say you're going soft. Max Connors was always as hard as stone, as cold as ice."

--

The train chugged on throughout the countryside, its passengers loitering about, attempting to pass the time.

"Why isn't Parkinson coming home?" demanded Draco, lazily draping his arms around Max.

"Didn't want to, I suppose," commented Mercury. Max grinned, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Maybe her family just didn't want her," she assumed, shrugging.

"What, like your dad didn't want you?" Mercedes derided. Shocked, Max glared at Mercedes, her eyes flaring up in anger. The girl retreated.

"I wouldn't be talking. You won't be in a very good position once _your_ parents find out about your little secret."

"What secret?" Blaise Zambini questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Mercedes hurts yourself, didn't you know?" Max informed the compartment.

"Will you shut up?" Mercury demanded, rolling her eyes. "It's getting old."

Max opened her mouth to retort, but then closed it, glancing outside the window.

"What? Do you not have a comeback?" Mercedes teased, laughing.

"Just because you two like to drawl on and on meaninglessly doesn't mean the rest of the world does, just so you know," Draco defended, for he knew exactly why his girlfriend had chosen not to respond. At that very moment a certain raven haired boy had walked by, and while Max Connors may not have noticed it, he had glanced only briefly at her before returning to his everyday life. The blonde haired boy had still not heard of what had happened the night his girlfriend escaped off to see Harry Potter, but he was careful not to push it too much. He was very aware of the fear the Dark Lord brought into anybody's life, and he could understand why she was hesitant to inform him. However, being kept in the dark did not suit Draco Malfoy very well, and after a week he decided it was best for him and for Max that he was informed.

"Come on, Max, there's no need to persist hanging around with these people," Draco commented, taking her hand and leading her out of the compartment and into an empty one a few doors down. She obliged, giving him a concerning look, but keeping her mouth shut until they were safely locked inside an empty area.

"What was that about?"

"I need to know what happened between you and Potter," stated Draco, crossing him arms. Max glared at him, biting her lip.

"Why should I tell you?"

"Because, whether you like it or not, I can play a big part in the mission of yours. The plan we formulated seemed to work quite well, didn't it? I mean, you did meet him, didn't you? I don't think you could have done that without me."

"Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. He'd already agreed to meet me before you stepped in."

"Whatever Max, but you can't keep up some silly charade forever. So tell me what happened!" Draco demanded, eyes wide with annoyance. Max sighed, looking down. It was somewhat helpful confiding in Draco over her mission and her plans concerning it, it was a whole other thing to divulge to him the truth of her conversation with Harry. Not even he would understand that aspect of the whole ordeal.

"He saw right through me."

"Oh, Max," Draco sighed.

"I tried to convince him otherwise, but what was I to do? In what real world would I ever talk to him anyway? He was right in assuming the worst," Max admitted, groaning.

"What are you going to do?"

"How should I know? I'll just have to lie," she concluded.

"To Potter?"

"To The Dark Lord."

"He'll see right through you faster than Potter did, you know," Draco notified Max.

"I know!" she cried, becoming frantic. "But what other choice do I have?"

"Why were you chosen for this, anyway? Anybody else could have done it, right?" Draco asked, curious. Max gulped; she knew exactly why this burden was upon her own back, but this was something she could never confess to any Slytherin.

"I don't know," she lied, hoping it was work better than it did with Harry.

"Consider this!" exclaimed Draco, "why should Potter believe you anyway? You've put on quite a believable pretense, but he really can't be _that _naïve, can he?"

"No. Potter's an idiot, but not that big of one. He knows what side I'm on."

"Maybe it would have been better if somebody else did it," mused Draco.

"It's too late now, and besides, who else is there?"

"Mercury?" Draco suggested, raising an eyebrow. Max scoffed, offended.

"As if."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't know, but being a double agent is a lot harder than you'd think," Max informed her boyfriend.

"Well, apparently it was too hard for you!"

"What are you implying, that I can't do it?"

"I didn't say anything."

Max sighed, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. She had promised herself years ago that Mallory was a girl she had to forget about, hide away forever. It seemed, now, that she'd simply have to break that promise in favor of surviving this war. If Harry was able to see part of Mallory, the smart, sweet, funny girl who loved to draw and was his best, and only friend than maybe he'd speak with her. They used to talk all the time about anything and everything; how hard would it be to get that back again? The only problem was Mallory had hidden behind Max Connors for seven years now; would it be possible for her to come back out again?

"I can do it. It'll be easy, and that is why I was chosen for this task. He knew it would be easy for me."

--

So far Christmas break had gone quite smoothly. Max had arrived at the Malfoy Manor, been introduced to Draco's parents, and then shown her room. Overall, the Malfoy's were quite polite to her. They made her feel at home, offering house elves, clothes, and other such luxuries. Even her father, who had arrived two days after she had, was on his best behavior. Her bedroom was across from his, something he took for granted. It was at night when he kept the closest eye on her. Max was unsure of what her father assumed she was doing, but not wishing to cause any disruptions in the Malfoy home she retreated to her bedroom every night at ten thirty, making sure her father saw, and did not leave until morning.

However, within the first few minutes of locking herself up in her room, there was a nock from somewhere inside the walls. It turned out that Draco had cleverly made an adjoining door in the back of their closets. At night they'd taken a liking to spending their time in Draco's room, the adults of the house oblivious to their visits.

Most of the time was spent kissing, but every once in a while Draco would try to start talking to Max. Sometimes it was concerning her mission, other times it was just small talk. Max was never one for talking, though, and she had learned quickly to avoid discussion on her mission with Draco. The topic was too close in proximity to Harry, and while Draco understood that she had to become a close friend of his, he would never understand the part of Max that _wanted_ it.

Days in the Malfoy Manor were quiet, and Max spent her time lazily lounging about, mostly reading. She enjoyed the luxuries of living with Draco and with Draco's money, but in truth it was not that different from her own house. It was mostly pleasant because her father left her alone most of the time, and Draco's parents were not concerned with her well being at all. For the better half of the time Max was left alone.

Christmas had come and gone, and her gifts were received and placed in their proper position. From Draco she'd received a lovely amount of expensive jewelry, and from his parents a book on pureblood history; how appropriate. Even her father had offered her an immense amount of money, and she was free to use it towards the best of her wishes.

Max was currently making her way downstairs towards the breakfast table, where the two families were meeting together to discuss something of "great importance." The Malfoys, as it turned out, enjoyed having large and fancy family dinners together. This was something Max had to admit, she enjoyed. At home, when she did have dinner with her father, he was always so suspicious of her, and so judgmental. It almost made the Malfoy Family Meals a pleasant event.

"Good morning, Max," Lucius Malfoy greeted, motioning for a house elf to pull out her chair. Max smiled politely, sitting down.

"Thank you, and good morning to you too," she responded, and beside her Draco rolled his eyes.

"Draco!" Narcissa Malfoy scolded, fretful over her son's atrocious manners. As everyone slowly began eating their breakfast, Lucius cleared his throat, alerting the table that it was time to hear of this great news.

"As you have previously been informed, over this break the Dark Lord has planned to visit," he paused, eyeing the table careful. Max was careful to make sure her expression was dormant. "Tomorrow evening, along with a few other choice death eaters, he shall be coming for dinner. He shall be expecting the best, and I _hope," _at this Lucius glanced at his son, "That you will flawlessly give him exactly that."

Max hid her distress at his words, taking a small sip of water. Over break she had carelessly let her mind forget about the mission, figuring that it was break and she could not see Harry anyway. The new of The Dark Lord's arrival at the house in which she was staying was not new, but it shocked her, pulling her out of the calm place she had been living. Having not even thought about Harry for the whole time she'd been away from school, Max Connors had no idea what she was going to tell her master, who would obviously be expecting some progress. How could she make any progress out of school, though? What exactly was expected of her?

"What are you going to do?" whispered Draco as his parents began a light conversation with Max's father. Max faced him, and for the first time in his seven years of knowing Max he saw a fear shining in her bright eyes.

"I can manage it. Remember, this is easy."

Max was quickly learning that in order to fall under Lord Voldemort's good side it was necessary to go above and beyond expectations.

--

_"Oh, Harry, of course I would love to attend the party with you!" Mallory exclaimed, her voice squeaking to a new level of high. Harry chuckled, rummaging around in large bucket of clothes. _

_"Oh, look at this, Mallory!" he exclaimed, pulling out a string of pearls. Mallory squealed, snatching them from his fingers. They were currently in trouble again, though this time it was because of nothing they'd done together. Harry, apparently, had been "climbing on buildings," and Mallory, annoyed with Dudley's constant beatings, had attempted to beat him up. They'd both landed themselves detention during recess, but had escaped to the drama room to play dress up with all the silly costumes. _

_"Now, stay still, Harry. This isn't about me, after all. It's you I'm drawing," Mallory ordered, tweaking his position before sitting down and beginning to draw. _

Max Connors was incalculably thankful to have brought her mahogany chest with her to the manor. While until now she'd kept it in the bottom of her suitcase, she figured that if she was to ever please her master she'd have to bring it out. When Max had decided to bring Mallory out again, she had not imagined it becoming like this; she never would have dreamed that her drawings, the same ones she tried to hide, would become such a large part in her plan.

This was another reason why Draco could not be so closely involved, however. In order to lure Harry into being friends with her it was important to keep Mallory and Max strictly separate. She could never show Draco Malfoy the drawings that she'd treasured, keeping so close to her heart.

Harry, on the other hand, had always supported Mallory and her heart. He'd love watching her draw, posing for her, and looking over the finished product. Even now, after so many years, he encouraged her to keep at it, even when she protested profusely. While Max did not know much of anything about Harry: The Later Years, she knew enough that the gift of art would soften the coldness he'd shown her, breaking the wall that divided them.

Because of this, Max had carefully written out an apology letter, explaining to Harry everything, twisting the tale just enough to make her innocent. Then, even more carefully than before, Max had searched through her chest, finding the exact picture from the memory, showing a young Harry posing as a fierce warrior. Then, trying to draw her best from memory, a picture of Harry now, his wand out, face knit into deep concentration. The final picture was one of the least quality. For even as a child Max had been very talented in her art, but somewhere in the mist of her teenage years she had lost it, becoming engulfed in Slytherin pride and ignoring her abilities all together. When she did draw, which was not often, it all came out horrible. The lack of practice and hate for what she did combining to make something that's value equaled that of a five year old.

The picture was simple: Hogwarts grounds, the lake in the background, but with two bodies standing next to each other. It was Harry and Mallory, older now, but still with their childlike innocence. They laughed together, about thirteen at that time, and in the pretend world Max had drawn they'd both been Gryffindor. They'd both been best friends.

It was the last picture Max had ever drawn of Harry Potter, excluding the one she'd worked on all morning after breakfast. After that it was all scenery, and the actually drawing came less and less often, and there were more and more half finished pictures.

All in all, Harry Potter deserved to see these pictures. He deserved to have them, to remember just as clearly as Max did. She needed him to forgive her for her revolting betrayal, or else she'd been tortured and killed by the Dark Lord. He could understand that, couldn't he? Most of all, though, Max need him to forgive her for the betrayal that was to come, and that had nothing to do with the Dark Lord at all.

Max fought back to rush of emotion, inhaling deeply as she brushed her fingers over the piece of old parchment. She added one note to the bottom of the picture, right under the spot where their hands connected, a bond that had long ago been broken.

_I never lost you. _


	31. The Reason

**Disclaimer: **The Potterverse belongs to J.K.R. not me.

**A/N:** I'm oh-so-proud of this chapter. for realz, it is over five hundred words!

* * *

Harry awoke in the morning to voices bickering next to him. He slowly opened his eyes to see Ron grumpily turning is back on Hermione.

"Ron if you don't wake up right now I'll get Fred and George," she trailed off, grinning smugly and Ron jumped out of bed, throwing a pillow at Harry.

"Get up, mate. It's Christmas!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Harry muttered, pulling on some clothes. Even with the devastating losses of the war mixed with worry for those he loved Harry couldn't ignore the happy butterflies in his stomach as he prepared himself for the chaotic time of Christmas morning. He'd never quite gotten used to the feeling of being cared for over the holidays. There were some things, Harry decided, that one could never get used to. Along with Weasley Christmas cheer came Hermione "tutting" at Ron as she helped him pick out his clothes while Harry himself changed in the background. Harry was more than aware half the reason Ron acted so incompetent was that Hermione _would_ stay around just a bit longer, and the thoughts of what they did when Harry wasn't around made him shudder in disgust. He supposed it could be worse, though. In all it wasn't particularly awkward changing with Hermione in the room considering they'd been best friends before either of them had even hit puberty.

"Merry Christmas, Harry!" Ginny wished as he entered the living room. They embraced each other in a hug, Ginny shyly kissing his cheek.

"You too, Gin," Harry told her. He took her hand, leading her towards the couch near Fred and George, who even as adults were bouncing up and down with anticipation.

"Settle down, boys," Missus Weasley scolded, glaring. "Where's Ron and Hermione?" she added, taking a quick glance around the room. Harry coughed, sharing a secret look with Ginny.

"Ron was just having some trouble, uh," Harry started, failing to come up with a suitable excuse.

"Wrapping gifts," Ginny finished, rolling her eyes. "You know Ron, mum, always the procrastinator," Ginny shrugged. Missus Weasley raised an eyebrow, doubtful, but did not get the chance to question for Ron and Hermione were quickly running into the room, flushed.

"Glad you joined us," Mister Weasley commented.

"Mum," Fred started.

"Come on!"

"Can we"

_"Please"_

"Open presents"

"Now!" George finished, grinning happily. The family chuckled as Missus Weasley nodded and the children attacked. Even Harry could not resist diving into the presents as he searched for ones that bore his name. He received many fun things including quidditch accessories, Dark Arts books, and many more important tools useful for fighting off Voldemort. While granted, most of Harry's gifts were ones of a more darker meaning he still received many entertaining presents. Fred and George gave him a handful of products from their store, and Ron a strange object he warned not handle while his parents were around.

All in all the Christmas had been very fruitful. Missus Weasley cooked them all a monstrous breakfast before they all dispersed to go enjoy their gifts.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Ginny whispered, hugging her boyfriend. Harry grinned, putting on arm around her as he flipped through one of his new books. He had never before been so interested in so many books, but he supposed there was so much to learn now that he was coming upon the final battle. It was like one of Hermione's final exams and he was going to need all the studying he could get.

"I haven't seen you smile this much in a long time," Ginny commented, laughing. "It's nice."

"It _is_ Christmas, you know. Even with everything going on it's hard not to get involved with all this cheer and whatnot," Harry explained, closing his book. He could always read it later, after all. He was due for a good game of Quidditch anyhow.

"Oh, I see," Ginny laughed, and they got up, apparently both thinking the same thing.

"If you get Fred and George I'll wrestle Ron away from Hermione," Harry offered, wiggling his eyebrows. Ginny coughed.

"That's so gross. He's my brother."

"They're both my best mates. You have no idea what I have to listen to," Harry complained, rolling his eyes. Ginny giggled, turning on her heal. On her way out she stopped, glancing at the enormous tree.

"I thought we would have gotten all the presents by now," she muttered, befuddled.

"What?" Harry questioned.

"Look, there's a leftover gift!" Ginny exclaimed before picking up the package. "And it's addressed to you."

Curious, Harry made is way over to Ginny and took the present from her hands. He examined it carefully. It was light, the heaviest bit being the letter attached to the front. It seemed to be just paper, and both Harry and Ginny were confused as to what would be so gift-worthy.

"What on earth?" Harry whispered.

"Maybe you shouldn't open it," Ginny warned quickly. "It could be from a death eater."

"But how?" Harry choked, looking for some sort of sign as to who it was from.

"Maybe the reason we didn't see it at first was become it came later and why else would it be late if not for this purpose?"

"What purpose?" Harry demanded.

"To give it to you fairly alone, without questions," Ginny explained. In any other circumstance Harry would have been proud of her concern and intelligence concerning the gift. Something about her theory made Harry uneasy, though, not that this whole situation didn't. He turned the letter over in his hands, noticing no return address or anything of the sort. Then, suddenly, something glimmered in the corner.

"No, I don't think so," Harry disagreed, reading the initials carefully. They were written in neat silver handwriting, glimmering pleasantly.

"Who's MC?" asked Ginny.

"Matthew Creed," Harry lied, speaking the first name that came to mind. "He probably should had wrapping issues like Ron," he joked, nervous.

"Wow, Harry, you really are quite the famous one," Ginny teased.

"Yeah, I suppose," and then as an afterthought, "he's in your year, right?"

"Yup. So are you going to open it?"

"Nah, I'll do it later. I'm anxious to whoop Ron in Quidditch," Harry said offhandedly. Ginny laughed, turning off to go find her brothers.

Harry paused, gazing down at the gift once more. He sighed, feeling slightly guilty for lying. Shaking his head, Harry went off to go find Ron and also to hide the present under his dirty clothes.

He wasn't sure, but was fairly certain the gift wasn't from Matthew Creed at all. Of course it would be from somebody else entirely.

--

The Weasley clan plus all trampled inside the burrow, noses pink with cold and cheeks flushed with adrenaline. The house smelled wondrous; Harry's stomach grumbled angrily in anxiousness for the large supper that was to come.

"Not until you clean up," Missus Weasley snapped as Ron made his way over to pick at some mashed potatoes. "Off you go!" she ordered, waving off the children to go change. Ron rolled his eyes and mumbled something he would have been scolded for had his mother heard.

A half hour later everybody sat down for dinner, the whole house ready for one of Missus Weasley's delicious meals. A great deal more people had joined the crew, many of them order members. Harry found himself sitting down at the end of the table next to Remus Lupin, Alaster Moody, and Minerva McGonagall. Ron was next to him and Ginny was near by but Harry found himself far more interested in the conversation taking place between the adults than the meaningless chatter bouncing about the table. While most of the table had begun discussing pleasant and cheerful things Harry pretended to pay attention to Ron and Hermione's bickering when in actuality he was paying close concentration to the more important conversation at hand.

"Why, it seems that this time last year there were far more people at Christmas dinner," Lupin commented, taking a bite of roast beef.

"Yes, well, many of our order members are on missions at the moment," Professor McGonagall sighed. She looked quite tired and more weak then Harry had ever seen the strict professor.

"Suppose it's been quite difficult then?" Lupin asked sympathetically.

"It's difficult not to put the school on the back burner with all the things going on outside of it," McGonagall admitted. "I don't know how Dumbledore did it," she added, choking over the deceased headmaster's name.

"Speaking of the school," Moody grunted. "You never quite explained to me how Malfoy got back in after what he attempted to do."

"Oh, Alaster, you must know!" McGonagall gasped. "You and I know what side Draco Malfoy is on, but technically he never did anything wrong. It was Severus who-" she stopped, shaking her head. Harry gritted his teeth angrily. "Besides, you must understand what a minority we've come, so to speak. With the ministry overthrown and Death Eaters in charge, what can one do? My power only goes so far."

"Still," Moody grumbled, his eye gazing off in different direction. "He's at least behaving, I hope?"

"Oh!" McGonagall laughed shrilly, surprising Harry. "He's been overthrown himself."

"Draco Malfoy overthrown? I'd never have heard of it when I taught!" Lupin exclaimed, causing McGonagall to smirk. Harry strained his ears, more curious then ever.

"It's Nate Connors girl," spoke the strict headmaster, looking as if she was in school and telling her friends the latest gossip. Harry bit back his tongue to keep from gasping.

"Nate Connors? Why I haven't heard much from him since the last war!" Moody growled.

"Yes, well, Max has been quite silent as well. Suppose after the conspiracy concerning his wife-"McGonagall stopped there. Harry's stomach lurched, silently pleading for her to go on. Lupin and Moody seemed to understand what she was speaking of, though, and any talk of Max's mother was forgotten.

"So what's the big deal, then? What's she been up to?"

"Arguing mostly, and more then usual. With everybody too. Except for Malfoy. Quite the eccentric girl, you know, but I'd never given her much thought before."

"What's it got to do with Malfoy, then?"

"It just seems that with Max Connors around Malfoy stays in line."

"Suppose she's on the other side, then?" Lupin assumed.

"With a father like Nate Connors why wouldn't she be?" Moody agreed.

"Now Alaster, we mustn't assume," McGonagall scolded. Harry growled; now was the time to speak.

"She is."

"What?" questioned Lupin, only now turning to acknowledge Harry. "Have you been listening the whole time?"

"Was I not supposed to?" Harry retorted. "I had been hoping we'd have gotten past keeping me out of things by now-"

"Mister Potter, please," McGonagall interrupted, glaring. "Just because Ms. Connors is in Slytherin does not mean she is a supported of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Please, Moody even said it himself! Look who her father is!" Harry exclaimed, though he had never met nor heard of Nate Connors. If he had he'd ignored the name as well. It never really mattered before.

"Yes, it is very likely but an open mind-"

"I wish people would start listening to me! I warned everybody about Malfoy last year and maybe if anybody paid a rat's ass of attention-"

"Mister Potter!" Professor McGonagall shrieked, causing the whole table to become silent and stare at them.

"-Maybe Dumbledore would still be alive!" Harry continued. A fork dropped in the background as the staring intensified, jaw's dropped. Lupin cleared his throat.

"Harry, what makes you so sure Connors is a Death Eater?"

Harry turned to look at his old Professor, his father's best friend the werewolf. He was seething by now, chest heaving up and down. He knew his temper had gotten the best of him and it was no use opening up old scabs, but he couldn't help himself. He was just so _tired._

"She showed me her mark."

--

"Harry?" came a voice followed by a knock. "Can we come in?"

"Sure," Harry sighed. The door creaked open and Ron and Hermione came to sit beside him on the floor. After his outburst Harry had retreated to his room, dug out the gift from Max and placed it in front of him. He'd wanted to open, but something was holding him back and now all he had left to do was stare at it.

"What was that about at supper, mate?" Ron asked. Hermione hit him and glared, obviously offended by his tactlessness.

"It was-"

"And don't say nothing, Harry," Hermione interjected. "If somebody showed you're their dark mark it's certainly not nothing."

"Look, McGonagall, Moody, and Lupin had just gone off talking about Malfoy and then Max, and I-" Harry stopped, hanging his hand with shame.

"Max?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered. Suddenly he was very ashamed of himself. His yelling was not necessary in the least.

"Harry, Ginny's told me about your little obsession with Max and honestly I'm concerned," Hermione confessed, eyeing her friend carefully.

"Yeah, mate, what's up?" Ron added.

"Max showed me her dark mark, okay? She just flat out showed me. Didn't even try to hide it and then starts talking like it's nothing. Like it doesn't matter!" Harry ranted.

"Not that getting the dark mark is something trivial, but so what? You must have guessed something like this would have happened," Hermione spoke carefully.

"McGonagall was just going on about how we shouldn't assume what side she's on just because her father is some big bad Death Eater, apparently. But I haven't even heard of him! And I told her she was wrong; Max is 100 devoted to Voldemort, but she still wouldn't believe me."

"Harry-"

"I just think that if the order stopped treating me like a kid and started listening to what I have to say-!" Harry stopped, sighing.

"Who's the package from?" Ron asked, bluntly diverting from the topic.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded before turning back to Harry. "We do listen to you, Harry. It's just been very difficult for everybody and we're all trying to make sense of things. Especially after-"

"You don't have to say it. We've talked about it enough for tonight. It is Christmas after all," Harry laughed. He'd almost forgotten.

"Well what better to complete a Christmas than a little family drama!" Ron quipped. The trio laughed quietly, but the grim attitude was quickly brought back when Hermione spoke.

"What aren't you telling us, Harry?"

"Nothing," he lied only to be faced with Hermione's penetrating glare.

"Come on, mate. You can trust us. Haven't you learned that much by now?" Ron inquired, eyebrow raised.

"I know her, knew her," admitted Harry.

"What?" Hermione asked, confused. "Of course you know her-"

"I mean before Hogwarts," interposed Harry. "We used to be best- We used to be friends," Harry choked out. He was having trouble explaining to Ron and Hermione the situation, for it was one he didn't fully understand himself.

"How, Harry?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" they both exclaimed, appalled.

"I didn't know until now, when she told me."

"How could you not know, Harry?" demanded Hermione. "Even Ron's not that thick."

"Thanks, Hermione. Glad to know what you think about me."

"This isn't about you," she snapped back at him.

"Stop it!" Harry yelled, surprised that the news had brought turmoil between his friends. "I knew her before I even knew I was wizard, back when I was still living in a closet under the stairs. I didn't even call her Max then."

"You must have noticed, though. I mean, what a bitch she was," Ron mused, laughing.

"She wasn't like that then," Harry defended, angry. "She was normal. She was a real friend," Harry retorted. He didn't mean for it to sound like Ron and Hermione weren't.

"What happened. Why didn't you tell us?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Harry whispered.

"It just doesn't make sense," Hermione breathed. "Nate Connors is one of the most prejudiced person I know, even more so than Lucius Malfoy. So why would he send his daughter to muggle school?" she pondered.

"I know!" Harry exclaimed, pleased to see somebody was seeing it his way. None of the pieces fit together.

"The package is from her, then?" Ron mentioned, eyeing the parcel carefully. "What do you suppose she's sent you?"

"I'm not sure," Harry mumbled. "I've been waiting before opening it."

"I don't think you should, Harry. You've made it obvious what side she's on."

"I know. But-"

"I understand you were friends before, Harry. But both of you were young and naive then. It's clear that she's changed and you can't let past relations hinder your retrospection," Hermione warned.

"I _know,"_ Harry moaned. "She tells me the same thing."

"Have you been speaking with each other?" Ron cried.

"Not often. It's mostly just arguing, but sometimes.." Harry trailed off, his mind wandering. "Sometimes I see the girl I used to know in her. And I'm not sure if it's something I want to give up yet."

--

"You mustn't tell Ginny," Harry warned as his friends got up to leave. After much convincing Hermione had agreed Harry should open the gift from Max as long as they were allowed to examine it for dangers afterwards. It _did_ take much persuading, but especially after to explaining to Hermione and Ron what he knew Harry was feeling extremely nostalgic and desperate for answers.

"She's my sister, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, his face turning red with anger.

"I know, but I'm afraid she'd get jealous over nothing because it's _definitely_ not like that with Max. Besides, I told her the package was just a late gift from a sixth year," Harry murmured, feeling slightly guilty. Hermione raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but did not press the subject in fear of Ron becoming more angry. Even though Harry was his best friend, Ginny was Ron's sister. There was no way he was letting her get hurt.

"We won't tell her, Harry. But she's smart and you can't keep secrets from her forever," Hermione cautioned. Ron nodded aggressively before taking Hermione's hand and leaving.

Harry was alone.

Carefully, he opened the letter first. It was thicker than Harry thought Max Connors could ever write so he was surprised when the first line read _Dear Harry, please set aside a good block of time because I'm not sure how long this letter will take to read._

This made Harry's stomach churn with curiosity as he settled himself on the bed and began to read. He was finally getting his answers.

_I know you're probably still angry with me. And confused. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm not who you thought I was. I suppose I should start from the beginning, though. Before you get any more confused. Because you deserve the truth about me and about us. _

_My dad wanted a boy, which is why I'm named Max. When my mum had me he was furious, and through a drunken rage he killed her. I don't know how he got away with it, but I'm supposing Lucius Malfoy helped. I presume he would have killed me too, and I never quite figured out why he didn't in the first place. The thing is, there are some things even I'm a little fuzzy on. I don't understand it all either, but I'm going to explain it to you best I can. _

_When I was little, before school, I remember seeing lots of strange men coming in and out. They were all in dark cloaks and spoke in whispers of men with names I could not pronounce. I know now that these men were death eaters, and probably still are if they're alive. I think the reason my dad kept me, the girl he didn't want, was because the Dark Lord has a purpose for me. He didn't want me dead, and who was my father to disobey his master?_

_It's just a theory, and I really have no evidence but I still don't understand why I'm around. If I'm correct then the Dark Lord probably knows something I don't, because it had to be pretty important if my father kept me around after he was defeated. It may sounds strange to you, but if you knew my father you'd understand. brbr_

_The reason I ended up in muggle school was because either way I wasn't wanted around. Sending me to a pitiful fifthly school was better than having me at home where I'd have to learn the basics myself._

_I tried to be like the coldness I'd been born into, but I was young and it was hard. Away from home it was easy to be a normal kid and met you it was like I was a different person._

_I probably should have known who you were, but in a Death Eater household your name was rarely spoken and it wasn't like I was part of the wizarding community. It was never explained to me what happened that night so I thought nothing of it. I just want you to know that whatever you may think of me and what we had it was never a lie. Everything I told you was true. You were my friend and I'm hoping I was yours. And don't think I don't remember the promises we made and the secrets we shared. I never forgot you like you forgot me. Don't doubt that or try to blame this on me because our friendship did not fade because of me. I've made many mistakes, but you were not one of them._

_Things did get complicated when I learned I was to be sent to Hogwarts, one of the best-if not the best-wizarding schools around. I was finally being accepted enough to become a full pureblood witch. It was the first chance I got to do something right and escape the punishment I received for something that was entirely not my fault. I needed to be in Slytherin more than anything or risk life becoming hell at home. _

_I must have seen you millions of times in that first year, especially with you already becoming a celebrity. It wasn't hard to pick up who you were, so you can imagine the shock I felt when I realized it was because of you my father's master was dead. You probably can't comprehend the fear and shame I felt; my father knew we were friends, you know. How could he not? I adored you. _

_For me coming to Hogwarts was when life really started, as I'm sure it was for you. Everything before that was a blur, almost meaningless, because now was my chance to redeem myself and be who I was born to be. It was time to grow up and I'd already made a vow with myself to leave everything else behind. I knew that once I became a witch I could no longer see you or speak with you, or even send letters. You didn't know it, but when I said good-bye I meant good-bye forever. In that last year with you I knew it was coming and it killed me. But I prepared myself. And I got over it. _

_It was you who didn't recognize me. It was you who promised to be my friend forever, no matter what, and then let your head get filled with the wonders of wizardry. Obviously, before first year, the was nothing worth remembering. You didn't even try to reach me after. With careful decision I left you behind, but you left me behind without a second thought. _

_I had new obligations to follow, but what did you have? You didn't even acknowledge my existence! I was forced to keep you secret because of who my people were and because of what they would do to me. But what was keeping you from confronting me? Nothing! You didn't even notice. _

_I just want you to know that even though I knew we could never be friends again, not that you'd want to, I never stopped thinking about you. You were always my best friend. In secret I kept you with me. And that's that. _

_That's what happened, Harry. This is what we've become. Harry Potter and Max Connors. You're "The Boy Who Lived" and I'm just another follower of your worst enemy. _

_But when I told you Mallory was dead maybe I was wrong. Maybe she was just sleeping, afraid. Because I'm sure she'd be on your side. I positive if she were to ever wake up you'd be the first person she'd go to. Her only friend. _

_Enclosed are three pictures I drew-they are yours now. You always did love my art, and even now you pester me about it. Some things never change, I suppose. I hope you like them._

_Merry Christmas, _

_Max Connors. _

The parchment floated to the ground, making a soft ruffle as it reached its landing. Harry looked up, gazing out the window at some birds chirping away in trees. He took a moment to admire them before gasping with life and clutching the rest of the package in his arms. He'd gotten the answers he wanted, but somehow he didn't feel any better. He was still confused and he still felt as if a large burden lay upon his shoulders.

He'd never imagined this to happen. Everything was breaking. He could hear her speaking, as if she'd read the letter allowed to him and all he wanted to do was ask questions. Max was not here, however. She was currently residing in the Malfoy Manor, where she belonged. It was strange how close of friends they used to be, when in reality they came from entirely different worlds.

Shame washed through Harry's veins. There was some truth in her reasoning. She'd essentially blamed him for their disconnection. He couldn't believe she'd known this whole time who he was and yet he'd never noticed. Maybe if he'd connected the dots sooner, before Mallory disappeared he could have saved her. Maybe Max would be his friend, and would no longer have to handle life as a Death Eater. If only he'd done _something._ For somehow between finding out about Max being Mallory and the Christmas letter all hate for the Slytherin Queen had melted. He couldn't seem to find it again, his discernment twisted so much that he could scarcely remember the odious demeanor of Max Connors. All that was left was the kindness of his best friend, Mallory. Even though he and Max had gotten nowhere near to friendship he felt as if Mallory was back, and in this moment of realization Harry felt happier than he had in a long time.

Quickly, Harry tore off the paper to reveal three canvases. He was faced, it seemed, with a mirror imagine of himself. He was brandishing his wand, clearly focusing on something very important. He picked it up and a piece of parchment fluttered to the ground. Carefully, Harry picked it up and read: _Drew this just this morning, for you. That's why the gift was late. Sorry about that, by the way._

Harry laughed out loud, and then jumped at the noise. Then he moved on to a picture he could effortlessly connect to a memory. As a child he and Mallory had gotten into masses of trouble, but somehow they were able to find fun in their detentions. More often then not Mallory would make Harry sit still for the whole hour while she drew him. Incidentally he was posing something stupid most of the time, but neither she nor he seemed to mind. It really was a great deal of fun. In this particular drawing Harry was in some ridiculous costume, a fierce warrior looking more like a child. Appropriate, for at the time he was one.

Finally, Harry examined the last picture carefully. He'd seen enough of Mallory's art to know she was far better than this, and stupid mistakes were evident all over the picture. He glanced at the right hand corner to see curly handwriting. _Mallory and Harry. Third Year. _

Third year? Harry had been so distracted with Sirius Black and Dementors and Draco Malfoy's teasing that he'd never even noticed Max. McGonagall was right; she really did lay low. Harry's eyes gazed over the picture, and even though it was poorly drawn he couldn't ignore the middle of the picture where their hands connected. The words stood out like a sore thumb.

"I never lost you," Harry whispered. Did she?

"Harry?" called Hermione, knocking at his door. She didn't wait for his answer, but instead came in with Ron trailing behind her.

"Hey," he sighed, slumping.

"Hadn't heard from you in a while. Wanted to see if you were okay," Ron explained, chewing on a piece of candy. Harry rolled his eyes, but on his face was a smile.

"'Course I'm okay."

"Woe, is that from Max? Didn't know she could draw!" Ron exclaimed, picking up a picture and examining it carefully. Harry took the drawing defensively, not wanting to share this part of him even with Ron and Hermione.

"Yeah, she can, but she doesn't like people to know. Afraid the Slytherins will tease her," Harry shrugged, gathering all his parchments to keep close with him.

"Sorry to bother you, Harry," Hermione said, glaring at Ron. "But we heard some news from an anonymous spy that Voldemort's spent his Christmas dinner with the Malfoys."

"What?" Harry choked.

"Yeah, apparently even the great Lord Voldemort can't escape some Christmas cheer," Ron retorted.

"Mallory!" exclaimed Harry.

"Who?"

"I mean Max," Harry amended. "She's staying with the Malfoys. We have to help her!" he yelled, getting up. Maybe it wasn't too late. He could still save her. She wasn't lost yet.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, her voice reaching a tone that made even Ron shudder. She pushed Harry on the bed. "Stay down," she ordered, yanking the wand his was clutching in his hands away from him. Harry had not realized he had so quickly prepared himself to embark on the noble mission to save Max.

"But Max-"

"Is a Death Eater. She'll be fine."

"Voldemort _tortures_ his followers, Hermione."

"Her tortures everybody. She's probably safer with the mark on her arm. You do remember what side she's on, right?" Hermione inquired, eyebrow raised.

"Yes-"

"Good. Now I don't know what she wrote to you in that letter. I hope you feel good to know the truth about your childhood friend, but don't get the illusion that she's come back for you," Hermione spoke, bluntly explaining to Harry exactly what he was doing wrong. "I don't know what Connors is playing at talking to you know, but if she's having dinner with Voldemort it can't be good. Now I suggest you settle down and then come downstairs to apologize to McGonagall, Moody, and Lupin," Hermione declared before turning on her heal and leaving.

Ron turned to smile sympathetically at his friend.

"She's right, mate. You can't be friends with a death eater," Ron said, sitting down to pat Harry on the shoulder. Harry turned to look at the pictures he had treasured just moments before.

"I never lost you," he whispered once more, the words tasting strange on his lips.

"What was that?" Ron asked, looking up from his hands.

"Nothing," muttered Harry. "I'll meet you downstairs."

She'd said she hadn't lost him and proved it with the poorly drawn pictures. But hadn't she?

What did that even mean, anybody? If Max Connors still cared anything for Harry she'd not be on his enemies side. If she really hadn't lost him she'd be working for the order, or at the very least neutral. She remember him even when he'd forgotten her, but did that really mean anything? Did she act on their friendship? Was Harry really willing to risk everything for her, a friend turned enemy?

He wasn't so sure.


	32. Pity and Fear

**Disclaimer:** The Potterverse, as usual, belongs to J.K.R.

* * *

Slytherins held many appropriate talents, Max priding herself in excelling in most all of them. While, similarly Gryffindors had many appropriate talents as well, and incidentally Harry was a proud holder of many of those as well.

Their relationship, however, was not a contest between houses and therefore should not be treated as such. In fact, despite whether you could call it a relationship or not, Harry and Max were far more fragile and complex than anything based off competition.

Yet they each played their part in a battle.

One of the most known traits of Slytherin was their ability to be deceitful, proud, and conniving with ease and without guilt. Intertwined within that was the simple fact that Slytherins could read people. That was why Voldemort was in charge, after all. Of all people the Dark Lord was the master of mind reading, all those beneath him laying out like an open book for him to skin or examine as he pleased. No secrets could be kept from the master, something he constantly made clear to his followers.

However, Max was fairly good at reading people too. In essence they were all quite simple and with minimal information Max could easily decipher what a person was thinking or what their response to an action would be. It was honestly that simple.

For instance, Max could tell right away what mood her father was in and then behave appropriately. She knew exactly how he would react to everything she did and the play out how the conversation if you could call it such would go.

That was a bad example, though. She was seventeen and if an adult did not know his or her parents by now they are simply an idiot, and an idiot Max was not.

Sometimes Max doubted whether some of the girls in her class deserved to be in Slytherin. Sure, they were power hungry bitches, but since when did that make them qualify for the honor of green? Quite understandably, Max could read her friends the best. She knew everything about them, knew how they thought, and knew their actions before they even did. Nobody ever really analyzes themselves, after all, so Max was left to do it for them.

Even Draco was easy to read, he being the most mature of them all. Then again, boys were never really that complicated and understanding them was easy for Max.

Because of this desirable trait of knowing people Max could easily have a single person eating out of her hand. After all, the better you know somebody the easier it is the control them. And coincidently, along with being able to read people Max was excellent at controlling them.

So, with these thoughts in mind Max hoped with all her might that her evaluations of Harry Potter were dead correct, for one wrong move in their delicate balance and he would turn his back on her forever, with no hope of trusting her again. Max could not suffer those consequences.

She had already come so close, already. Had she not subconsciously planted seeds beforehand her chances of befriending Harry could have been lost by now. She'd been far to open with him, especially with him knowing her far better than anybody else. From now on Max would have to be exceptionally more careful with everything concerning him. There was no more room for mistakes, especially with Voldemort's high expectations.

Speaking of which, Max was running late! She'd been so preoccupied with her thoughts she'd applied lip gloss fifty time over, staring blankly in the mirror. Normally Draco would have come and reminded her to come down by now, but he was busy attending to his father's needs like a house elf. When someone as important as Voldemort comes over some pride must be lost, though. As a host you must lower yourself to house elf standards sometimes. Besides, Lucius had been trying to impress Voldemort for ages now. He'd failed once before and even as a most trusted Death Eater the Dark Lord could only show so much mercy. His expectations must be met and he expects his most devoted followers to know that by now.

Max was at the bottom of the food chain by now, but that still did not mean he would show her and more mercy than Lucius Malfoy. She had, after all, been given a task that would rival his any day. Proudly, Max smirked at this thought as she opened the door to her bedroom only to be faced with Draco's fist.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, glaring. "What the hell?"

"He's killing me down there. I'm not the one who screwed up here, but somehow he expects me to make up for it!" Draco exclaimed, his eyes alit with fear and exasperation. "I just barely escaped to tell you He's arrived."

Max rolled her eyes. "Obviously I was about to come down. I am a guest as well, you know, and it would be inappropriate for me to come any earlier than expected"

"Right. Sorry," Draco flustered. Max had never quite seem him in this disarray, and she wondered if most Death Eaters fell apart in Voldemort's presence. Max had certainly been nervous before, but she'd never fallen apart as Draco seemed to be doing now. Her composure was her best ally.

"Come on, then. I'm sure dinner is prepared. We wouldn't want to come late," Max teased, linking arms with her boyfriend. Draco sighed, letting loose some steam as he kissed her cheek lightly.

"It's nerve-wracking, yeah?" he stated as they begun the long walk towards the dining hall.

"I suppose," Max muttered, keeping cool and distant.

"You aren't nervous?" Draco questioned, eyebrow raised. "I was hoping even you got nervous, Max."

"Of course I'm nervous," Max snapped, irate. "I just know better than to go to pieces before my master. How do you expect to impress anybody acting the way you are?"

Draco glared, releasing Max's arm. "Excuse me for having some sense," he spoke, his voice sharp as a knife. "You're new here, Connors. You've never done this before, only having met him once. You have no idea."

"And you do?" Max inquired, eyebrow raised as she glared in return.

"Look at what we've been through already," Draco commented, eyeing the direction in which they were heading carefully. "If my father screws up one more time…" he trailed off, looking down at his feet.

"Then it's best he behave, correct, Malfoy?" Max retorted, tired of their petty bickering. It seemed, which the approaching occasion, that any conversation with a schoolmate was unimportant. There were bigger things to be dealt with.

"What do you think-" Draco cut off as they approached the door and he suddenly smiled, raising his voice from the strained whisper they were conversing in. "Why, Max, you do look lovely tonight!"

Max looked down at herself, confused. She was wearing a long, red, evening gown. Her hair was curled casually, silver charms dangling from her ears. Her eyes analyzed Draco carefully, shooting him a displeased look to show that she was still not finished arguing with him. Just because she had to put on an act of friendliness did not mean she was perfectly happy with Draco.

He seemed to know that, though, and felt the same towards her. Seeing that it was time to put all the dirty laundry away, Draco and Max stepped inside the beautiful room to meet what would hopefully not be a very disruptive night. Draco was right; Max was new. She wasn't sure how much of this she could take before something terrible happened.

For even though Max hoped with all her might that something terrible would _not_ happen, she was almost certain there would be some amount of ugly drama to erupt from under their overly decorated table cloth.

As Max entered the room she froze, a sudden rush of fear pulsing throughout her veins. Her heart seemed to stop as her eyes landed of Lord Voldemort, who was seated at the head of the table. It was quite strange, actually, seeing him there. It was almost casual, and had he been anybody else it would have. He was not, though, and should never be considered such. Any good follower knew that.

Draco himself took a seat next to his father at the table and it was then Max noticed the seating arrangements. On the right side of Voldemort was his host, Lucius, who was seated across from his wife, Narcissa. Then there saw Bellatrix and her husband next to Narcissa and an empty seat across from her. Max's father sat across from the male Lestrange and next to Severus Snape. From there people were seated according to status and as Max examined the table she recognized many people.

Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Zambini, Parkinson, McGovern were only a few of the faces she recognized. They all had children in her class and Max was quick to notice them all staring at her from the other end of the table, which was very long. They were obviously not yet bearing the mark, nor was it probable to assume they would be anytime soon. They'd not yet earned that honor and it seemed they assumed she had not either.

It was then that Max realized, with her friends staring at her curiously, where her place on the table lay. Apparently it was well known that the minors sat at the end of the table, away from Voldemort, with the exception of Draco who was host. However, it was clear that Max's own place lay in the open chair next to Draco and her father, right up near where all the important conversations took place. Carefully, Max took a step in the apposite direction of her classmates, surprising them beyond reason, and sitting down next to Draco with a mischievous smile. He, having been attending Hogwarts with her, knew what had just happened. He'd gone through the same thing before. Both Max and Draco were obviously promoted higher than most others at the table.

As dinner began Max looked around the room in awe. It was obvious this room was rarely used, and when it was it was only for special occasions. She imagined Lucius Malfoy and the ministry officials sitting in these same seats, discussing very important matters concerning things she need not understand.

Or maybe this room was especially for when Voldemort visited. Max couldn't be sure, but it sounded prudent.

Max glanced quickly at the Dark Lord, noticing that he was not eating, but instead had his hands folded in front of him. His long fingers tapped gently against his hand as he quietly observed those beneath him. He had a sort of casual air about him, as if they were all friend meeting regularly for an annual dinner. However, it was obvious that nobody else in the room held this sense of contentment. Everyone was worried about the discussion that would soon emerge, bringing to life the dangers and missions and troubles that came with being under a less than merciful master. For now, though, they all distracted themselves with lighthearted conversation, picking away at the meal.

"I do pity those who disobey our Lord," Draco commented, sneering at the other end of the table.

"How so?" Max replied politely, though this was only a show. She knew. Oh, how she knew.

"Look at them!" Draco exclaimed, waving a hand down towards the end of the table. Max briefly recognized Peter Pettigrew, but not because of his low status. She knew, if only by hearing it second hand, what he'd done to Harry Potter and his family in favor of siding with the winning side.

He was also a lovely example of how easy it was to fall in the Death Eater food chain. He'd delivered the Potter's to Voldemort on a platter, returned to his matter and helped him return, but was now at the end of the table, munching pitifully on a piece of meet near Mercedes.

"They are quite atrocious," Max agreed, turning her head away to face Draco again. He had a look of disgust on his face.

"Honestly, shouldn't they show some fear for their master?"

"What, like you do?" Max quipped, smirking.

"Fear is the equivalence of respect, Max. Understand this, _please,"_ Draco pleaded, rolling his eyes. Max had never quit heard her boyfriend speak this way before, but she assumed it was a bit of a façade for all listeners. Max sighed, turning her attention away. She briefly caught Mercury's eye and met her gaze with a challenging look.

Suddenly, there was a clearing of throats as Lucius Malfoy spoke.

"House elves!" he called, clapping his hands. Quickly, a house elf for every guest came and took away their plates, leaving each person with an empty napkin in front of them. The room became silent in anticipation for what was to happen next.

"Faithful followers," began Voldemort as soon as all the house elves were cleared. His voice demanded attention and all eyes fell on him. Max was entranced. "There are plans in the making!" Voldemort continued, his voice booming and echoing off the walls. Max quivered, biting her lip.

"Yes, master!" Bellatrix Lestrange exclaimed, her complete devotion shining brightly.

"Change is about to come. Change for the better shall make its way across Britain and then we will expand and in turn, change the world!"

Resounding claps chimed loudly.

"As this change approaches it is important that all of you remember your place in this war. As a follower of Lord Voldemort you shall remain on my side, and on my side completely. There is no wavering between the two sides. Remember, Lord Voldemort will know if you have your doubts. Lord Voldemort knows all," he paused, eyeing some people near the end of the table that Max did not recognize. Then he continued.

"As your leader it is I who you shall follow. Enjoy your dessert while it lasts, for we are on the brink of a revolution!"

A loud booming sound erupted as the cheering and clapping continued widely. It did not fade for a very long wile and Voldemort waited patiently. For those who were near his side it was clear he was not done with his discussions.

Eventually the noise faded into quiet chatter and Voldemort unfolded his hands, his red eyes gazing piercingly at his followers.

"Lucius," he began, "even you have been graced with a job and I'm hoping that is going well?"

"Yes, master," Lucius responded, gazing lovingly at his leader. "Everything is going according to plan at the ministry. Our control should come soon."

"Oh, please," Bellatrix snickered, sharing a secret glance with her sister, who was looking incredibly nervous. She gave a pointed glance to Bella, worried for her husband and family. It was ignored, however. "Hasn't Lucius been saying this for months now? Your mercy is great, my Lord, but I did not know it extended this far."

"You are correct, Bellatrix," Voldemort agreed. Lucius quivered. "And had the overcoming of the ministry been of higher importance I can assure Lucius would be punished greatly," Voldemort paused, placing a long, white finger on his chin. "Then again, had it been of higher importance the job would have probably not been headed by Lucius."

Bellatrix chuckled, only to receive glares from all of the Malfoy family. Draco rolled her eyes at Max, clearly annoyed with Bellatrix's constant sucking up. Max raised an eyebrow, curious.

"Most of the higher class Death Eater's are in charge of a certain task, with lower Death Eater's under them, helping," he explained. "Bellatrix is always trying to be on top, though, the whore."

"And what have you been doing for the Dark Lord?" Narcissa demanded, challenging her sister angrily. She knew as well an anybody that the more attention brought to the family's failures the easier it would be to be killed. Aside from Voldemort's orders her family was the most important part of her life.

"For your information-"

"Please," Voldemort interjected, "keep family disputes to yourselves."

"Sorry," the girls chorused, hanging their heads in shamed. Voldemort turned away, moving on.

"Severus?" he questioned.

"Hogwarts is under control," he spoke, his voice calm and sharp. Max gazed at her old headmaster curiously. How could Snape be in any sort of control of Hogwarts? McGonagall was headmaster, was she not?

"You've still not been able to maintain the headmaster position, though, have you?" Voldemort asked. His face held a look of disappointment and maybe a little bit of doubt. Even Max knew that Snape was a double agent, and while she believed he was on their side there was always room for a little concern. Why _hadn't_ Snape snatched up the headmaster position? Was there a part of him still true to Dumbledore?

"Minerva is determined, sir. There are still many teachers devoted to Albus. Besides, I have been focusing more on recruiting students."

"And how is that turning out?"

"Good, sir," Snape stated, keeping his face impassive. "Devotion levels are rising in the community as a whole."

"As expected, of course," Bellatrix interjected, craving the attention of the conversation. Max sighed, tuning out the voices of desperate Death Eaters. She was tired of their petty arguing and the whole setting of the event was making her feel nauseous.

In truth, this was not something Max had expected. It was like a popularity contest, almost. All the adults seemed to do was bicker and fight for attention and adoration. They didn't seem to realize that nobody cared, especially not the one they were trying to impress the most. Did they not noticed the ignored look on their master's face? Were that that consumed with their one agenda?

"Max!" hissed Draco, glaring pointedly. Max looked up from the table to face all eyes on her. She nervously glanced in the direction of Voldemort.

"Sorry," she muttered, suddenly feeling very small. "I thought we were still arguing."

Her father and Bellatrix glared, obviously annoyed with the snide remark. However, something to the equivalent of a smile appeared of Voldemort's face. A burst of courage flowed through Max.

"I was hoping you'd inform us of the good news of your mission," Voldemort stated, eyeing Max carefully. She inhaled, the courage and color leaving her face. All eyes landed on her, each face-minus Draco's-contorted in a look of shock and surprise.

Lying had always been another attribute of the Slytherin character, and it another quality max was very good at. So, naturally, it was her first instinct to retort that the plan was going well and everything was in order. It would have been simple, really, and her heart would not have skipped a beat. Lying was natural, after all.

This was Voldemort, though, and he could detect a lie even better than he could utter one. Max was sure he'd know immediately whether she was telling the truth or not, and would probably be even more furious then. So, the truth was what Max would have to stick with for the time being.

But that didn't mean she couldn't bend it.

"He saw right through me, at first," Max started, pronouncing her words carefully. One slip could be the end of her career, her reputation, her life. "Potter is naïve, but not completely stupid."

"Oh?" Voldemort breathed, considering this statement for a moment. He did not look angry yet, but she knew this could be a simple façade. She supposed he was giving her a chance; though this did not mean he would hide his disappointment. "I thought you of all people would be able to accomplish this. There was a reason, after all, that you were given this job"

Max glanced at those watching her. Bellatrix's eyebrows were knit together in confusion. She was visibly offended she wasn't informed of the mission taking hold of the discussion right in front of her. Details were needed to satisfy her mind.

Narcissa, on the other hand, looked hopeful. So far the news had not been good, and if it continued in the way it had started she knew that some of the disappointment would be lifted off her husband's shoulders and onto the child, who, in her opinion, didn't deserve to be sitting up with the big kids just quite yet.

Nate Connors, Max's father, seemed the most disappointed. He already hated his daughter, but was at least hoping she'd become useful in the war that was rapidly becoming more intense. If she failed him now it would disgrace his family even more, and he wasn't sure if he could withstand that.

"I know, master," Max sighed, "And I'm deeply troubled that this task is not coming as easily as I had expected.

"Keep in mind, though, that I have not yet brought out the full potential of my hold on him. We all know Potter has a messiah complex and would desire nothing more to save a poor innocent girl dragged into the deceptions and traps of the dark side," Max crooned, her voice becoming a sort of sickly sweet at the last part. She made sure to emphasize just the right parts of her little speech, and was careful to let the innocent side of her come out a bit, just to prove what she could do.

The plan, so far, was poorly formed in her mind, but some action had to be taken. Much convincing would be done along with the lies and sweet looks. Max could not fail this mission and her determination, if nothing else, would save her and convince Harry to at least talk to her. She had to tell Voldemort _something. _She had to please him _somehow._

"I see," Voldemort commented. He didn't appear to be fully satisfied with the information, but was less on the verge of fury than before. Max's next words were spoken quickly and earnestly.

"I sent him a Christmas present!" she exclaimed in a last desperate attempt to show him her devotion. "It was very sentimental and accompanied by a very heartfelt letter explaining things. Knowing what I know about him, it should have made some sort of impact. Enough that he'd talk to me, at least."

Voldemort didn't respond at first, but instead folding his hands and letting quiet blanket itself over the part of the table.

"Master," Bellatrix, of course, interrupted, "What is it you have asked of her? It's obvious she can't accomplish it."

"Her mission, unlike many of yours, is of utmost importance and therefore not to be discussed in such casual conversation," Voldemort said strictly. Max could find nothing casual about the conversation, but she was not one to contradict Lord Voldemort.

"I reiterate, why have you placed such a heavy task upon a simple schoolgirl who obviously does not know what she's doing?"

"Silence!" Voldemort hissed, eyes blazing red at Bellatrix. "I have my reasons for choosing Connors and I need not share them with you."

"Of course, master," Bella said quickly, pleading for forgiveness with her big, black eyes. "Forgive my transgressions."

"Despite recent obstacles she's done quite well, and much better than I'm sure any of you could achieve," Voldemort complemented. Max let out a great breath, relieved to have had such high praise.

"Thank you, Lord. Next time we meet I promise to have more for you," she assured him, relaxing in her seat.

"I would expect nothing less."

Max left dinner quietly, happy to be returning to the secluded areas of her room. The event had been stressful, more than she'd imagined, but she was pleased with the outcome. She'd anticipated much worse.

"Max," came a deep voice. Max turned around the face her father and immediately straightened her posture.

"Yes, father?"

He did not speak at first, seemingly struggling with his words. Max swallowed, unsure of whether she wanted to hear what he had to saw. Finally, he spoke.

"You've done well."

"Thank you," Max responded, relaxing once again.

"Good night."

"Good night, father," she whispered, turning back towards her doorway. Though the words were small and almost meaningless, to her they meant the world. For the first time since she could remember Max had done something right in the eyes of her father. She'd pleased the Dark Lord enough for him not to curse her, and in return her father was showing some sort of happiness that she was alive.

Yes, the evening had gone far better than Max would have ever expected. If only the rest of the year could turn out like this.


	33. Turn on Me

**Disclaimer:** It's all J.K.R.'s

**A/N:** The purpose of this chapter is lost on me...So review and remind me, please. XD

* * *

Things in the wizarding world were changing.

A silent blanket of coldness had fallen upon London, causing the temperature to drop a lovely forty degrees. Chilling snow had swept itself around houses, being carried miles by a whistling wind. Even the children had turned down snowball fights and games of Quidditch in favor of a quiet game by a fire which never burned out.

It was a rare occasion to see anybody outside, and even owls were refusing to send letters. Many parent spoke in shocked tones of how they had never seen a winter like this in their lifetime.

New Years had come and gone, and with it came a calmness of a certain dark wizard.

Yes, Dementors still roamed the countryside and subtle deaths were scattered about Europe, but there had been a noticeable drop in action from Voldemort. It was as if he was hibernating like a bear, scared of the cold. His strict rule became lax and for a while many were able to feel almost normal.

The Order knew better, though. His disappearance was far worse than anything they could have imagined. He had not given up obviously, which only left the option that he was planning something disastrous. It was a calm before the storm that was giving the Order no leverage. Death Eaters had kept to themselves, leaking no information-as if there was anything to leak. There was no way to catch them, and in all honesty all they were left to do is wait.

This was not the only thing changing, however.

Deep in there still walls of the Burrow a steady anger was growing in Harry, bubbling up to the surfaces like a monster. He was cooped up because of the weather, tired of the same people, and annoyed with all questions asked of him. He'd tried his hardest to keep the rage at bay, but he was certain these feelings could not be held inside for long.

He was right, of course.

The hate had been keeping him up at night, growing and feeding off every encounter with a member of the household. He'd been wishing the household would leave him alone for a long while now, and it seemed that only happened in the darkness.

So, naturally, he would settle himself by the fire and scan over books, practice spells, or simply think. This was when he was most serene, most happy, with the comforting noise of wind whistling through the walls and an occasional shake of the foundation. These noises did not startle him; he'd been almost living in the Burrow for a long while now and he knew it was all magically supported.

His best thinking got done at night too, secrets sweeping through his mind like they were being pushed by a broom. It was in the black of the night he become most humane, the anger fading and retreating inside of him, maybe feeding off the darkness it had come from.

Because of this, if he were to ever be disturbed in this time, it would be only expected for the anger to lash out and attack whoever the unlucky person was that walked in on him. He should have known this, thought ahead, and left immediately the first time he saw a flash of red hair contrast against black.

Or maybe, the youngest Weasley should have seen the annoyance in his green eyes the moment the fire reflected off of them.

"What have you been doing down here?" she asked casually, eyeing the papers scattered around him with curiosity. Harry gathered them up quickly, protective over the things he treasured most dear. This was not something Ginny could ever understand, nor did he want her to.

"Thinking," he snapped, not looking her in the eye. She sighed, sitting down next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He automatically jerked away.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" she demanded, glaring at him. She was tired of him ignoring her. She needed him to open up and become the Harry she loved.

"Notice what?" Harry asked, a flash of fear churning whirlpools in his stomach.

"That something's wrong!" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes widening with sincerity. Her eyebrows were knit together with concern and despair, fearing whatever monster was growing inside of Harry.

"Nothing is wrong," lied Harry, trying to shake her off.

"Look, Harry, I know things are difficult for you right now. I get that, but I will not sit and watch you lie to my face!" she cried, her words sharp and dictating as she took control of the situation.

"I'm not lying!"

"Don't tell me that, Harry. You've been lying to me all year, from the first day on the train, and we've been growing apart ever since," Ginny whispered, staring wistfully into the fire. Harry narrowed his eyes at her, his temper rising.

"There are things I can't tell you," he hissed, standing up to leave the room. Ginny's nose flared, jumping up after him and grabbing his arm.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Harry Potter," she yelled, digging her fingernails into his arm. Harry turned swiftly on his heal, piercing her with a furious look on his face.

"Shove off, Ginny," he whispered, his voice low and husky as he easily shook her off of him.

"Do you even want to be with me anymore?" she cried in one last final attempt of desperation to keep him. She knew she was losing him, had been losing him for a while, but all the same wanted him back.

"No," he said without a thought, and Ginny stumbled backward, shocked.

"Harry-"

"Just stop sticking your noise in other people's business and leave me alone," Harry retorted. Somewhere inside of him he knew he should be guilty for hurting her like this. He liked Ginny, even if it wasn't as much as he'd thought. He never did want to hurt her like this, and the broken look on her face with slowly killing a part of him. The way her voice cracked when she said his name made him wince, and he almost wanted to take back all those things he said.

But the anger was more powerful, and it was finally coming out, releasing itself upon Ginny. He had been debating ending it with her, after all, and mixed with the raging fury inside of him it only made disaster. The anger controlled him now, and the way others felt had slowly become irrelevant.

"So this is it?" she questioned softly, no longer fierce and angry.

"Yeah. It's over," Harry muttered, his face deadpan. The anger had run its course, satisfied with the pain it had already caused. He did not wait for Ginny to respond, favoring the seclusion of his room, where Ron lay asleep, rather than more petty arguments.

The thought of Ron filled his heart with regret; even though they were best friends that would not hinder Ron in yelling at Harry. He was very protective over his sister and Harry was sure he would not take her heartbreak lightly. This, above all else, was what bothered Harry the most.

Even though he had snapped and glared at all people in the house, there were three he did not mind, and he welcomed the company of somebody he wasn't annoyed with. Ron and Hermione where two of those people. They were his best friends and knew him better than anybody else did. The, without a doubt, knew exactly how to treat him when his become like this. He would not push them away.

The third individual he did not lash out against was, ironically, Max. This fact made his guilt increase tremendously, especially after what had just happened with Ginny. He was supposed to hate the raven haired Slytherin with all his might, but after her letter of explanation she was his favorite person to talk to.

They'd been sending letters, despite the raging snow, ever sense the first package she'd sent to him. Harry could trust her with things he knew he could never tell Ron and Hermione. He told her of his worries, his anger, and his emotions. He knew she would never judge him for these things, never think any differently of him like Ron and Hermione would. Perhaps she knew she was in no shape to judge people.

Yet, even though he could trust her with the thoughts he held most dear to his heart, he could not trust her with facts. He was forced to edit every letter he sent over and over, looking for leaks he might have slipped out. He knew what side she was on, that if he told her anything she could pass it on to Voldemort. Harry was careful; he would never let that happen.

So he was left torn. He loved talking to her, craved her letters, and was grateful for the chance to vent as he replied. But he could never give her the whole picture because he could never fully trust her. Things were no longer black and white, because even though he should hate her for more than one reason he treasured what they developed.

It was an echo of the friendship they'd had before Hogwarts, but it was still something different and new. He hadn't quite figured out the boundaries yet, didn't know how far this would go, or even if he could call it a friendship. She was Mallory again sometimes, but she was Max so much more of the time.

The thing was, Harry was coming to find out he didn't mind Max so much anymore. He knew she was hard and hateful, but there was a side of her she kept hidden, and sometimes he'd see that. It was a feeling that caused Harry much distress, because he was finally realizing Mallory _was_ gone, but that that didn't mean he couldn't be friends with Max.

It really wasn't supposed to be like this, and Harry was getting confused.

He sighed, pulling out her most recent letter. He'd read it many times throughout the day as Max slowly became his secret obsession. She was slowly etching herself into his mind, taking a part of his heart in her control.

_Harry-_

_You won't believe the New Years I had. Lucius Malfoy really does like to party! I think he more loves his status as a wizard, and so he invited every respectable pureblood in Europe, I'm sure. It was terrible, but Draco and I were able to laugh about it throughout the whole event. Apparently he's used to this and has come up with a variety of things to do to entertain himself. _

_Sometimes I'm ashamed to be part of this petty pureblood group, though. _

_I'm sorry about your friends, though. I never meant to put you in this situation-you should never have to choose. Of course, I know exactly who your choice would be and that's why I ask you to please keep us a secret. _

_It feels as if I've just found a real friends again and it would be a shame to have to give that up. I know it sounds strange, and now everything's so confusing and wrong for the both of us. It's worth it for me, though. _

_If I could go back knowing what I know now maybe I would have done things differently, maybe not. But even though I'm supposed to be against you, and even though we were always made to hate each other I can't bring myself to fully conform to what I've always been taught. This was the life I've grown into, and I can't change it now. I can't just submit, either. And even though it's difficult, talking with you is so much easier. You know all the secrets my "friends" would hate me for. _

_My "loyalties" have been set, but not in stone. Somehow maybe there's a way out. When I get so sick of this, of being on the wrong side, of being stuck, sometimes I imagine the way out. I dissect and go over everything in my head, and I always end up in the same place. _

_A Death Eater. _

_I wish things could be easier for us. And I hope you learn to trust me. Because I'd never betray you. _

_-Max_

Harry sighed, leaning back against the wall. He glanced up at Ron, who was snoring happily. He didn't know what a mess Harry had become. That wouldn't last long, though.

In many ways Max and Harry felt the same on their situations. They were both looking for ways to just be friends, for things to be normal, and they both had the dire need to speak with each other.

Even though Harry didn't like what he was hearing, he did like hearing about Max and her life. He'd forgotten she was with Draco until she mentioned him early in the letter, and found it funny the way she described Lucius Malfoy. It was strange to think that, though she hated many of her fellow Death Eaters, she seemed perfectly alright with her boyfriend, Malfoy. Harry wondered if she was truthful about that. He couldn't imagine anybody ever liking Malfoy.

Harry quickly got out his pen, ready to explain to Max what had happened that night. He wondered if he could make sense of it with her help.

_Max-_

_So do you really like Malfoy, then? I always thought that was just…a façade or something. I can't imagine Malfoy being civil or fairly nice to anybody. Maybe he's different towards Slytherins? But didn't you hate him before this year? What happened? _

_Please don't worry about me, Hermione, and Ron. It'll work out and I wouldn't dream of telling them about our correspondence. I can predict their answers now. _

_"Harry, she's a Death Eater!" _

_"Hermione's right, mate, this sounds dangerous."_

_"Just be careful." _

_Maybe I'll get them to understand eventually. They are my best friends, and especially now… _

_Well, I suppose I'll start from the beginning. _

_Remember how I told you about how angry I was? It's been horrible, but nobody got the picture. You, Hermione, and Ron were really the only people I could talk to without snapping. Isn't that weird? Usually all we do is argue. I almost feel like we're friends. Haha. _

_Well, anyway, I got in an argument with Ginny. All year she's been trying to figure me out, get in my business, and involve herself in things she should stray away from. At first I was just angry about Dumbledore. And then I just wanted to protect her. She doesn't know what we know about Voldemort-how horrible he can be. I never wanted her to be involved so deeply in this. _

_But then I just stopped wanting to talk with her. We never got back to the place we used to be last year, when we were together for the firs time. It seems that over the summer something changed-everything has changed-and my world is upside-down. _

_I broke up with her. I yelled at her and then ended it. _

_Things are so messed up, but I don't regret this. I mean, I regret being so horrible to her, and I'm anxious for when Ron finds out. I know that will cause a rift, but I guess I had been wanting this for a while. I feel sort of free without Ginny. Is that bad? _

_At least I'm not angry anymore. Maybe it's over with. _

_Hopefully I'm not starting a bad habit here. Will you promise to help me? I don't know how, but you notice I'm being a git just come up and hit me or something. I'm sure you'll get a gold star for that in Slytherin, right? _

_-Harry _

--

Ron didn't look at Harry during breakfast that morning. Tomorrow they would be heading back to school, and Ron was not helping the family pack like he usually would.

He was thinking, considering, brooding. He was furious.

In a house as small as the Burrow it was hard to keep secrets, so, naturally, the news of Harry and Ginny's breakup was out in the open before everybody was even awake. Most Weasley brothers were angry about this fact, but not one was as enraged as Ron, who was Harry's own best friend. As Harry's best friend he had expressed his concern over and over; he thought Harry knew that. He thought Harry, above all else, would consider that.

Ginny, before he'd even come downstairs, had caught Ron and urged him not to make the breakup a big deal. She'd said it was nothing, they both knew it had to happen, and that it was agreeable.

Ginny was Ron's sister, though, and he saw straight through her lie. She was not the only one that had noticed Harry's behavior in the last few days and he was willing to be that the breakup had not been nothing, but instead involved Harry yelling, fighting, glaring.

The conclusions he made were not far from correct, because Ron knew his best friend better than he knew the back of his hand, and he knew how Harry would act when he got in one of his "moods." He also knew that Harry had not been treating Ginny the way he should throughout the whole year. He'd kept quiet, though, hoping it was just a faze. That was a mistake. Just because Harry was grumpy and emotionally wrecked did not give him a green card to treat other people like dirt.

Yet, this was not the end of Ron's anger, for there were more conclusions to be made. There was more theories to ponder over. He was partially angry with himself, because he should have seen then signs. He should have done something, anything, to prevent this.

Ron had been uncertain the day Harry received a package from Max Connors. He knew the moment he had figured out the sender that this was bad, horrible, and only going to end in disaster.

When Harry told him to keep this a secret from Ginny, that should have only added to his feeling of anxiousness. He had ignored it, though, seeing what Harry was saying. He didn't want to cause a rift over a Slytherin he didn't really like at all. Ron was aware that Max had been a concern of Ginny's, and Ron took Harry's pleads of secrecy as a way to keep him and Ginny steady.

He'd thought Harry was only looking for the end. He'd thought that now that Harry had received explanations, closure, an ending, that he would move on from his obsession with Max. He'd thought this was the end of it, and now they could all move on with their lives.

This was not the case, though.

Harry had thought he'd been secretive in his actions since Christmas, but Ron knew what he had been doing. Ron was his roommate; how could he not know? He'd seen the letters sent back and forth between Max and Harry, watched Hedwig dry himself by the fire after long journeys to who knows where.

Then, slowly, as Harry began talking to Max Connors more and more, his anger rose, his hate escalated, and all concern for others but himself fell behind. Whatever she was saying to him, whatever they shared, was ruining Harry. She was easily corrupting him. Harry had changed. The more time he spent dwelling on Max Connors the easier he was becoming lost.

Ron knew he should have done something before now. He shouldn't have waited till Harry had exploded, firmly rooting him on the path he had unknowingly chosen. Maybe Ron could have done something to stop this, but he hadn't. He had ignored his inner warnings in favor of keeping the peace.

Ron was stupid.

But no longer was he going to let this continue.

--

"You're a bloody idiot, Harry," Ron stated as he walked in on Harry packed.

"Look, Ron-"

"Don't try to make excuses. Gin's trying to blow it off as nothing, but don't think I don't know what happened."

"You don't know anything about what happened!" Harry exclaimed, his voice raising.

"Like hell I don't!" Ron retorted. "You broke her heart, and for what? So you could win an argument?"

"It wasn't like that," Harry muttered, trying to distract himself for the look of anger glowing in Ron's blue eyes.

"But it was. You've been crazy all break, yelling at anybody who so much as looks at you funny. All Ginny wanted to do was help you, be with you, and you tore her up!"

"I didn't mean for it to be like that-" Harry tried to explain; he was desperate to save himself from this argument. His monstrous rage had been left in hibernation and now it was time to make amends. He couldn't screw things up anymore.

"And don't think I don't know why," Ron continued, ignoring him.

"What the hell?" Harry blurted.

"It's Connors. I know you've been sending letters with her, and I don't know why, really, but somehow she's doing this to you!"

An unexplainable burst of ire burst into Harry's throat. This was unlike anything he'd felt in the past few days. This was not anger simply for anger, but now it had a purpose fueling it. Now it came alive, defending the girl Harry wasn't even supposed to like at all.

"That's bull-" Harry started. Ron sensed his temper going out of control and immediately seized the chance to continue before Harry's words overcame the situation.

"No it's not. You've been fine and then suddenly she jumps back into your life, messes up your relationship my sister, causes you to hate everybody in the house, and distracts you from all main purposes," Ron paused, soaking in the adrenaline.

"I'm sorry about Ginny, but don't you dare try and blame this on Max. She's done nothing here," Harry hissed, standing up and balling his fists. His hand immediately went to his wand, but Ron was prepared. His was already brandished.

"This isn't just about Ginny. This is about you. She's ruining you. Connors is feeding you lies, trying to break you. She's nothing but a filthy, lying, little Death Eater and we would all be better off with her."

'"SHUT UP!" Harry yelled, struggling not to curse Ron. "Just shut up."

"You better pick your battles, Harry," Ron sighed, dropping his wand. "This is a pivotal time for you, and I know without Dumbledore you feel lost, but don't go looking for answers in somebody who wants you dead.

I'm just looking out for you. You're going to get hurt and you're going to hurt others if you continue getting close to her," Ron finished, turning around and walking out the door.

Hermione was standing there, staring at him with a shocked look on her face. Ron smiled weakly, preparing himself for explaining to her what happened. For now, he settled with wrapping her in a long hug. She exhaled loudly, sniffling.

"Things are changing, Hermione. The tables are turning on us."


	34. Starting Over

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling. As usual.

**A/N:** This chapter's got plotting, it's got arguing, and it's got secrets. It's sort of a filler, but YOU JUST WAIT.

* * *

As Max returned to school it was like waking up from a dream she'd been engrossed his far too long. Her opinions were fuzzy and dazed; it was taking some work to slip back into her old habits.

"You look different," Mercedes commented, looking her up and down.

"Do I?" Max questioned as she sat back, leaning next to Draco. She then pulled out a book from her bag and pulled a letter out of it as she started to read.

"Yeah, you do," Pansy added. "More alive, maybe."

"Hm," Max muttered, smirking up at Draco as she slanted the letter in his direction, just enough to show him the name of the sender. He nodded back, eyebrow raised in appraisal.

"Happy, almost," Mercedes continued. Max laughed, rolling her eyes. It was true; things were looking up for her. She had a steady life down, and though it was difficult, so far everything was falling into place. She was on Voldemort's good side and Harry's as well, with Draco as her accomplice nothing could possibly go wrong.

"What, did you two shag or something?" Mercury demanded, noticing the secret smiles they shared. Max coughed, setting down her letter from Harry.

"Shut up," she snapped, glaring. "You're the only slut here."

'"Whatever, Connors. Something happened over the break that your not telling us."

It _was_ true. Something had been happening, but it didn't start over the break. It had, perhaps, peaked then, but this transformation into Harry's pursuer had been taking place ever sense the beginning of the year.

"Maybe it has something to do with where she was sitting at Christmas," Pansy said in an ominous tone. The group silenced then, each person looking down at their hands as they remembered the Christmas dinner.

"Yeah, Max, why were you so high on the table?" Mercury asked, finally. She was unafraid of whatever was going on.

"Because I'm obviously better than you?" Max suggested, crossing her arms. She kept her face composed, daring anybody to doubt her. Her reign came into play then, silencing everybody. They quickly looked away, consecutively deciding the change the subject.

"What's it say?" Draco whispered, pointing at the letter from Harry.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" Max teased, grinning. Draco laughed, shoving her and for a moment Max felt like a kid again, happy and carefree. Talking with Harry was doing this to her, causing her to become so completely immersed in the life she used to have. Secretly, Max was happy for it. She hadn't realized it before, but she missed the way things were before Hogwarts. It felt like now, after she was forgiven, there was a clean slate. She could start over, be who she wanted to be with Harry and not who she was supposed to be.

"You are happier, they're right," Draco mentioned. Max shrugged.

"Can I please finish reading?"

Draco obliged, leaving her to herself. Max shook her head, laughing, and then caught somebody walking by her door. She took a double take, seeing Harry talking with some stupid Gryffindor right outside her compartment. He seemed to notice she was watching and smiled at her hesitantly. Max nodded in return before letting her dark hair fall over her face, shielding her from his view.

A red tint hinted at her cheeks and Max could feel something in her blood bubbling contently. What was happening to her.

As Max finished the letter from Harry she froze, ecstatic with the news she had received.

He had broken up with Ginny. For what reason, he was unclear, other than the fact that he'd been annoyed. Yet, Max knew there was no way she could not use this to play out in her favor. There was a strategic way to approach the situation and Max quickly set her mind to work.

Yet, somehow, there wasn't a lot of thinking involved in making her decisions concerning Harry. She had to deliberate much more about everything she did with her Slytherin classmates, and even Draco could sometimes cause her doubt herself. Planning was always a significant part of living out a Death Eater life, after all.

Still, she found herself not so much thinking about ways to become Harry's friend, getting closer to him, gaining his trust, but instead she just did what felt right. Being with Harry felt right; Max wondered if she would not continue his friendship even without Voldemort's mission. In fact, Voldemort was now the only thing keeping her from Harry. Except, now he was endorsing it.

The thing was, that even though their friendship was based on a lie, Max felt as if it was the most trustworthy relationship she was involved in. Even after talking with him just through letters she wanted so much to just give up her Slytherin life and move on. She had been over silly stereotypes for a while now, and it was time to get on with life. She was almost done with school; this time had to come. She had to be her own person.

The truth was that Max was tired of always doing things for other people. There had always been somebody above her telling her what to do, and she had always lived up to all those expectations. Now, though, she just wanted to do what she wanted to do. It wasn't about what other people asked of her anymore. It was about Max.

Fear still ran through her veins, though. Max was inspired, but not stupid. It was important she follow Voldemort's orders. While she may no longer care about what her classmates said, there was still her father. There was still her master.

Liberated, Max pushed all those thoughts out of her mind as she began composing a letter to Harry.

_Draco and I are complicated. I guess he's not that bad, but he lets things get in the way of his vision. Inside, I believe he's an okay guy and that's why we're still together. We still fight, though, but he's there for me. He's just a typical boyfriend. _

_So the answer to your question is yes. I do like him._

_Please try to be happy, Harry. Anger isn't good for you. And I'm sorry about Ginny. _

_I'm surrounded by Slytherins, so I have to go. Write back soon. -Max_

The letter was short, but she didn't want to draw attention to her writing. Locked in the stuffy compartment it was difficult to not want to take subtle steps.

Max had changed, though. Over the Christmas break Harry had become bitter and angry, but Max had become happy and daring. She wanted to be his friend, and now it was possible. All the right people would know about the reason for the friendship, but nobody but Harry had to know the truth. That she really was becoming to love him again.

With that thought it was decided. A drastic change was to be made; it was time for new beginnings.

"Draco, I need to talk with you," Max whispered and grabbed Draco's hand before he got the chance to respond. Like on the ride to his house, they found an empty compartment and began discussing.

"What is it?" Draco grumbled; he'd been falling asleep when she startled him.

"I want to devote myself to Harry," Max blurted, eyes alit with the moment.

"Excuse me?" he demanded. Max swallowed, adrenaline spreading throughout her body.

"I want to just be his open friend. I don't care about what any of the rest of the Slytherins say or do. I'm throwing myself into this mission."

"But why?" Draco questioned, confused. "I know the two of you have been writing. It's been going well and I don't understand why you want to ruin things."

"Ruin what? My friendships with the wannabe bitches? I'm not sure how long these letters will be enough for him. And once I publicly declare our friendship, killing everything I've become, how much more will be trust me? Think of all the things I will know!" Max exclaimed, excitement boiling like acid in her stomach.

"But at what cost? Think about all the things you will lose. What will people think of you sinking so low?" Draco demanded, glaring.

"What will they think when we win? Will I not be acknowledged for my effort? His downfall may lie in my hands," Max exclaimed. Her eyes glazed over, the perfection of the way things played out surprising her. Everybody was winning. She was becoming Harry's friend, permanently and for real. She was pleasing Voldemort. She would still have Malfoy, hopefully. Her life was turning out without any flaw.

"Why now?" Draco whispered, looking down.

"Harry's broken up with Ginny. He doesn't want her. He wants me."

"And he believes you are truly his friend? That you won't betray him?" Draco questioned.

"He will."

"How?" Draco challenged. Max smirked, taking his hands.

"This is where you come in," Max paused, testing the waters. Draco eyed her carefully. "We're going to get in a fight over him in the Great Hall. We're going to break up and I've going to leave by Slytherin ways behind."

"What? No way. You're breaking up with me for Potter?" Draco yelled, throwing his arms up.

"No!" Max defended. "We don't actually have to break up. We just have to make people think we did."

"And what will this accomplish?" Draco sighed.

"He'll fall for me. He already has and by doing this I'll be proving to him where my loyalties lie. He won't deny me."

"Don't get too conceited. I still think this is a bad idea. I'm not I want my girlfriend to be running around with Potter," Draco hissed, glaring.

"Well you have no choice. I've already decided."

Draco sighed, crossing his arms and eyeing her up and down. He'd known Max, if not well, for his whole school career and was positive that under no other circumstances would she ever converse with Potter. He hoped she knew what she was giving up. He hoped she didn't expect this decision to be easy. Max was smart, though. She knew what she was doing.

"Fine. I'll go along with it," Draco finally agreed, leaning against the wall. Max smirked, sauntering up against him. Slowly, she pressed her lips upon his, running her hands through his blonde hair.

"Don't worry. They'll still be lots of this," she muttered in his ear, pulling away and biting her lip. Draco shuddered, bringing her into a kiss again.

"There better be," he responded, his voice husky and he pulled her closer.

"Don't get too jealous, though. Who knows how kinky Potter is-"

"Don't talk like that," Draco snapped, pushing her away. "I imagine you will have to be kissing him, but don't get too comfortable. Remember who your future is."

"Of course, Malfoy," Max sighed, shaking her head. She flashed him a bright smile, confident in the way things were working out so very perfectly. Then she kissed him once more and turned to walk out and find the girls again.

"Connors?"

"Yeah, Malfoy?"

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into. I may be on your side, but that doesn't mean I have to be nice. Think about what everybody else will say, too. And Potter may easily fall for you, but you better not fall back. You won't be so easily forgiven."

"Right," Max responded, nodding. She slowly let her eyes fall to the ground, feeling the fear rise in her. She knew that she'd be shunned from everything she'd held true. She knew that perhaps her only allies would be Harry and Draco. Her want for friendship was far stronger than any warnings Draco could fire at her, though.

"Watch your back," Draco said finally and then waved his hand for her to leave. Max shook her head as she walked towards her former compartment. She walked in silently, shooting a glare at Mercedes as she did so. She wasn't a reject yet, after all. She was going to miss her power over the other Slytherins.

Before now Max had kept a part of herself masked by the hatred and cruelty she had shown everybody else. Perhaps that was why she was so good at lying; she'd been doing it for so long. Even to herself, perhaps, and it had come to the point where always hiding something was expected.

However, now she'd be splitting and twisting the truth beyond all boundaries. She could always be true to herself and her own emotions with Harry, but she'd always have to hide her plans and true intentions. Then, with Draco she'd have to keep the real authenticity of her friendships secret. Yet, she could be open about all that she was and had become in the past seven years.

She was literally splitting herself in half. Like Jackal and Hyde she would be two people constantly, always having to keep the other one in check. She'd have to be able to bury and bring out her two selves willfully, within split seconds. Things were not about the get any easier.

Max was strong, though. Max could do it, this she knew. She'd chosen her path. No matter how confused Max got, though, she'd keep this in mind. No matter what she jumped into, or was forced to do, Max would have the facts.

Because, of four things Max was certain. Firstly, she wanted to be friends with Harry Potter. Secondly, she wanted to continue her relationship with Draco Malfoy. Thirdly, she wanted to please Lord Voldemort. And lastly, Max wanted to move on from this faze of her life. Max wanted to get all of this school shit over with. She just wanted to be herself.

--

Max walked into the Great Hall with Draco, sliding past Mercedes to sit near the end of the table. She wanted to discuss logistics of their break up with Draco.

"Bitch," Mercedes whispered, giggling with Pansy.

"Excuse me?" Max snapped, whipping her head around to glare fiercely at the girl.

"You heard me," Mercedes remarked, standing up out of her seat. Mercedes was a little taller than Max, but this brought her no worry. Mercedes was fat and ugly, and Max was better than her. She could add that to her list of things she was sure of.

"You better take it back, you little whore," Max retorted, glaring. Mercedes's mouth dropped for a moment before she brought her hand up and slapped Max right across the face. The sound was loud enough to cause half the table to stare intensely at the two girls. Before long, the whole hall was silent and waiting the Slytherin Queen's response.

"It's not worth it," Draco muttered in her hear. He grabbed her waste and tried to lead over to the corner where they were heading, but Max stayed rooted to the stop. Her face burned red where Mercedes had hit her and there was just no way she was going to let that slide. With the bruise she'd have in the morning, Mercedes deserved something in return.

"I am going to fucking kill you," Max hissed before shoving Mercedes into the table. She stumbled and fell down into her plate. It wobbled before falling to the floor, creating a piercing crashing sound.

"Go ahead and try!" Mercedes shrieked, reaching up the grab at Max. She ending up pulling her long black hair and ruffling her robes. Max shoved her off easily after a moment's wrestling and before long her wand was out. Mercedes froze.

"That's right, isn't it? Go ahead and shove like a brave little muggle and everything's good, but once a wand's brought out you're useless!" Max cackled, holding the stick up to Mercedes throat.

"Ms. Connors!" shrieked Professor McGonagall, rushing over to the scene. "I strongly advice you to lower your wand."

Max's eyes flared as Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her back a few steps. Max shook him off once more, not breaking eye constant with Mercedes. Mercedes eyed her wand carefully, quickly changing where she looked on Max's body.

"Of course, Professor," Max murmured, slowly letting her wand hand drop. She still clutched the wood as tightly as before, though. Her grip would not loosen.

"What's gotten into you?" Mercury whispered, drawing her sister's attention away.

"Detention, both of you," McGonagall snapped and then turned up to face the rest of the school. "Go back to your dinner. There's nothing to see here."

"I'm sick of her. She deserved what she got. I just wish-" Mercedes went on, but Max never got to here what the girl wished for; Draco was forcefully pulling her away from the group.

"Hey, let me go!" Max yelled. Draco dropped his arm from hers.

"Imagine that, but worse, and without me to hold you back."

"What? Why?"

"That's what it's going to be like from now on, if you go through with your plan," Draco informed her. Her blue eyes were distant, as if he was already giving up on all hope of her dignity.

"I know," Max whispered. "But I'll have Potter."

"Oh?" This statement did not seem to please Draco. Max shrugged, turning to her food. She didn't need to argue with Draco anymore over this. They had agreed. Plus, she was afraid he'd take that back as well. Without him she wasn't sure if she could do it.

Max ate quietly that night, but she was not morose. Secretly, she was happy to be getting out of this. She was tired of fighting and always having to take control over situations like that. She just wanted to be with somebody who didn't force her temper to fly.

Max smiled, glancing over towards the Gryffindor table. Harry kept sneaking glances at her, looking concerned and curious.

"What happened?" he mouthed. Max smiled wider, shaking her head. She raised her hand, waving him off carefully, before turning her head and facing Draco again.

A new era was falling.


	35. To Say Goodbye

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse is Rowling's. Max and plot are mine.

**A/N:** It's that fatal chapter, the one I enjoyed writing oh-so-much.

* * *

Max examined herself in the mirror carefully. It was a rare occasion when she took time to really work on her appearance, for it was naturally stunning. Not to say that Max wasn't conceited enough to spend hours staring at herself, but never before had she done so in such a manner as this.

As a child, Max's hair was shoulder length and impossibly straight, constantly messy, and a frightening dark shade. Her face was round and rosy, baby fat lingering for the longest time possible. Her body was short and almost stubby, though in no way was she considered fat. As a child, Max was vibrant and colorful, even though she was constantly patronized by her father about good behavior and pureblood manners.

Subconsciously, Max had held onto her childhood for as long as possible, fearing the reality of adulthood and the darkness that followed it. It seemed that no matter how much Max wanted this-the pleasure and appeal of getting rewarded for following Voldemort's actions, along with the power of being a bitch-she was hesitant to enter Hogwarts, knowing what she was giving up.

Max had grown to love her life, though. She quickly climbed the social tower, subtly showing her classmates exactly what was expected of them. Max had been taught by the best that she should hold nobody but Lord Voldemort in a higher rank than her. She was taught to balance on the thin line of submission and control. Max excelled in balance, though. Max was good at what she did.

As she grew up she changed; that was clear. Looking at herself in the mirror Max saw a completely different person than who she remembered before Hogwarts. This time it had no connections to Harry Potter, Lord Voldemort, or even Draco Malfoy.

This was about herself.

One's body is always changing, cells always dying and being replaced. Every seven years or so, one's body changes completely. Every seven years one's cells are different, dead and replaced. Every seven years you are somebody new.

Max's hair was longer now, and more lively. It waved about, still messy, but after being tamed it achieved an attractive look about it. Her face was thin and pale, her body tall and skinny. There was almost a sickly look in her, the black contrasting against white making her look like a ghost.

In the back of her mind, Max wondered exactly why Harry was trusting her so easily. Maybe it was because he wasn't as good as reading people as she was, but Max was sure if she was him she'd have seen through herself easily by now. She would have stuck with her first instinct that night when the truth came out. There would be no second chances.

Because, in truth, Max looked dangerous. Even if one did not see the green marking on her arm, even if they didn't know her at all, it was obvious she was to be avoided. If you met a murderer on the street, would you not turn and run away? How could he not know of her intentions to lure him in and then lead him to his death? Like a siren she would be his downfall, dooming him to crash among the rocks.

While this thought shook Max, she didn't care much to change her actions. Selfishly, she was to continue with her plans to befriend him. She wanted his company far too much to take any other actions, and in turn she wanted the approval of her father and her master. Again and again Max marveled over the perfection of it all. She was getting everything she wanted.

Purpose flowed through Max as she smiled into the mirror, lightly placing a lock of black behind her ear. She inhaled deeply, turning around to walk downstairs to the common room. A pivotal moment lay before her, a time of change approaching dangerously. There would be no turning back after this.

"What are you so happy about?" Mercury snapped, picking up her book bag to follow Max. There steps became aligned as they walked down the steps from the dorm. Max rolled her eyes, deciding to let Mercury have her fun. It was practice, after all.

"Nothing," Max sighed, clutching her wand inside her robes. Slytherins girls were tedious, and somehow, after Christmas, Max had stopped being one of them. Of course, this wasn't to say that Max was not a tedious person herself, but not in the same petty schoolgirl ways as her peers. Time and time again, Max was reminded of the importance of her actions compared to those of Mercury's. Had it been Mercury in Max's place, she would have not been able to make the sacrifice. Then again, for Max it was hardly a sacrifice at all.

As soon as the common room came in view so did Draco. He looked up at her with hesitant eyes, looking more grey than blue today. His face lay for a brief second open and venerable, and while no other would notice everything he spoke in than moment, Max saw everything he was trying to say.

He was pleading with her to change her mind and decided to take upon the mission from a different angle. He did not want this for her, and he did not want this for himself. Draco did not understand the full complexity of the decision; he only saw the simple half side of it and therefore he was sure Max was back out. Draco Malfoy was hesitant, trying to determine if this was what she wanted.

Max raised a determined eyebrow and then nodded, so little that it was hardly a movement. Draco saw, though. He exhaled noticeably and then extended his hand to greet hers as they finally met.

"I need to talk to you," Draco ordered, his voice cold and impatient. "Now," he added, glancing pointedly at Mercury. She raised an eyebrow, blowing vibrant red hair out of her face. Max smiled sweetly, grasping Draco's hand as he pulled her away.

They waited patiently for everybody they knew to leave the begin walking towards the Great Hall, taking refuge in the corner of the room. Shadows disguised there silent lips and penetrating eyes, the plan bubbling to the surface. Plots like such shouldn't be so easy.

"So this is it?" Draco demanded, striding out the door. "You're ready?"

The dungeons were cold, a biting wind rushing past them, blowing Max's hair widely around her face. She sighed, a shiver running down her spine as she continued away from the drear of dungeons. The wind followed her, though, as if even nature was warning her to stop what she was doing. Surly Slytherin and Gryffindor friendship had never happened before. The magic behind the castle seemed to realize this, secret ears in the walls hearing and trying with one last final attempt to stop the plan that everybody but Max seemed to know would end in disaster.

"Yes," Max stated, no quiver of uncertainty in her voice. Then, she added, "And you know what you have to do?"

"Yes-"

"Because," she interjected, glaring sternly, "you must be fully devoted for this to work. If you fuck this up, I fuck this up."

"What makes you think I'll be the one ruining things?" Draco demanded, becoming furious.

"We're playing with a delicate balance here, now. There is no room for mistakes. I'm not sure if you can handle it."

"Excuse me? I was part of this long before you were, Connors," Draco defended. He did not like being looked down upon.

"But were you ever assigned something like this?" Max retorted, smiling.

"No, but-"

"Relax," she laughed. "I'm just getting you riled up. The angrier you actually are, the better this will work out. Now come on, we're here."

They entered the Great Hall hand in hand, but their faces were not pleasant. Draco was still grumpy about their precious bickering, and Max was careful to position her features in a way that made her look displeased. Acting was crucial from now on, and along with lying Max was exceptionally good at it.

"You ready?" she hissed lowly into Draco's ear, her done hazardous.

"Yeah," he mumbled back, his eyes darting around the room, searching from something Max was unsure of.

"Look angrier. Just whisper angrily into my ear until we draw a bit more attention," Max said, acting as if she was fighting.

"Stop being so uptight," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. Max glancing at the Slytherin table; a few people had noticed their arguing and slowly people were eyeing carefully from their appropriate place at the table.

"Now!"

"Will you shut up! You do know I don't believe any of the shit that comes out of your mouth?" Draco yelled, his voice raising octaves higher than was expected, shocking nearby students into silence. Inwardly, Max smiled.

"What's your problem? I haven't done anything!" Max shrieked, glaring intensely as her eyes darkened to a shade of navy.

"My problem is you and your fucking lies," Draco continued, bracing himself. Max softened her face, silently apologizing as she raised her hand and brought it to his cheek, smacking him hard. The noise rang throughout the Hall, echoing off the walls as silence ensued.

"Don't you _ever_ excuse me of lying," she hissed, and then the wind returned, her hair once again rising above her shoulders. She looked a banshee, her words loud and biting as they pained all listeners ears. Max was wild, caught up in the adrenaline, thoughts circling like soup in her mind. Everything was melding together as the climax came, reality and insanity becoming one, just like Max's life.

"Then explain to me why you're such good friends with Potter, Connors! How are you going to talk your way out of that?"

Max noticed that all eyes were on her by now. If not before, everybody now noticed that the two Slytherin royals were arguing in the middle of the hall about, as they now knew, Harry Potter.

"I don't have to!" Max screamed, crossing her arms determinedly. "I owe you nothing."

"Bullshit, Max!" Draco exclaimed. "You've been sneaking around with that filthy blood traitor from the moment we got together! What do you think your playing at?"

"Don't call him that," Max growled in a low voice, ferocious and furious. And even though her voice was nothing more than an angry hiss, all heard. It was clear what her true intentions were.

There it was. That was it. Even if she did want to turn back now, there was no way Max could. She'd said it, clear and broad, for all to ear and form opinions on. Max Connors had defended the one person she was never supposed to associate with. Max had betrayed her house, her family, her lifestyle for a "blood traitor."

Still, Max didn't care. She found herself angry, even though she was simply supposed to be acting. When Draco had called Harry that name she felt offended, genuinely offended. Max _wanted_ to defend him, to prove that they were all wrong and she was right. It had nothing to do with her, though. This time, it was about him. Was she really becoming his friend again?

There was no time to debate this, though. She shouldn't have even had those thoughts in the first place, so Max carefully tucked them away into the nook where she placed those unwanted thoughts and emotions.

The problem was, though, that now there was no nook. In order to accomplish her mission Max had opened up the secret place in her mind, let everything out, and now it was all jumbled together. She could no longer ignore things like she could before. Separation was no longer evident in her brain, but neither was togetherness. Everything was just a mess.

"That's it, Max," Draco sighed, wry now. The anger had run out, obviously. Draco was done with all these facades. He'd never been completely into the plan in the first place, and he was just happy to have it over.

"What?" Max gulped, swallowing down her pride and fire.

"We're over," Draco stated before walking away, leaving Max in the spotlight.

And it was over. While secretly Draco and Max may still be together, everything else had ended. Max would be persecuted beyond all means. All students would now know what she'd done, how she'd gone back on everything they knew. The Gryffindors would not trust her, along with Ravenclaws and HufflePuffs, and the Slytherins would hate her for even considering talking with Harry. There was no longer a place for her in this school. It was all over.

Max glanced cautiously towards her old friends; they were all glowering intently at her. Mercury raised her head in defiance, and metaphorically stepped on Max, kicking her to the bottom of the food chain. For the first time in years Max felt like crying.

She had not anticipated this, after all. While she held no regret, she did realize that Draco had been right. The sacrifice and persecution was no match for her. She couldn't handle it. It was over.

Max stood, frozen in the middle of the Great Hall, humiliated at being dumped in front of the whole, school, even if it had been planned. She sighed, staring straight forward only to meet the eyes of the headmistress, Professor McGonagall. She had a peculiar look on her face, as if confused by the sudden discovery of Max. Why this would matter so much to the headmistress was unclear, though, and Max did not take much more notice of it. Instead, she focused on not looking at Harry and getting her way out of the Great Hall.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped at a nearby fifth year before striding quickly out of the room.

For one more brief moment Max turned back, furrowing her brow at McGonagall, who was still staring curiously. She looked like she was solving a puzzle, in fact. Max sighed, scowled, and left.

Maybe it wasn't _all_ over, Max decided. She had to remember who and what she was doing this for.

Besides, she did have Harry now.

--

Harry had been having a wonderful day so far. He'd gone to bed last night with a short note from Max, and then awoken early in the morning to reply to her. She'd been acting quite strange so far, and it had only been the first day back. The argument at last night's meal did not go unnoticed by Harry, though, and he yearned to find out the truth behind it.

For now, though, he was not thinking about her. Instead, he was laughing happily with Hermione and Ron. It was the first time in a while that things had been normal between them. It had been unbearably awkward ever since the break-up with Ginny, and even now Ron had not gotten over it.

Hermione, who had not been there during the argument, was stuck in the middle. She was Ron's girlfriend, and therefore was inclined to take his side. Plus, Ron was most likely right about the whole ordeal. Yet, she didn't want to turn her back on Harry. They were all supposed to be friends, after all.

So, she stuck with standing the middle, constantly trying to make conversation that was natural. Eventually they'd have to get over whatever was bothering them. She'd just help the process ease along and hope that the two decided to not be stubborn for just one day even.

However, Hermione was getting a break off for now. With all the excitement of seeing everybody after school there was no tension between the two friends. Worries were nonexistent at this hour as everybody chatted happily away about Christmas presents and activities.

"My mum got me a new chess set. I'd be willing go against you now, mate," Seamus said, challenging Ron, who laughed tauntingly.

"Yeah, right. I could beat you any day. It's not about the pieces; it's about the player!"

"And who's to say I haven't done a lot of practicing over the break?" Seamus hinted, grinning broadly.

"What if I have too?"

"He's right!" Harry chirped, laughing. "I've lost so many times in the past two weeks my ego's dropped an embarrassingly large amount."

"Well, tonight after dinner let's play then!" Seamus suggested.

"It's a deal," Ron agreed before they bumped fist and the conversation directed itself to another topic.

"Oh dear, I hope we don't have much homework this term," Hermione mumbled, looking nervously towards the teacher's table.

"Did I just hear right?" Ron asked, feigning shock. "Is Hermione Granger not looking forwards to four inch long essays?"

"Oh Ron," Hermione blushed, waving him off. "I'm just hoping we don't get too busy because of all the studying I have to get a head start on! Who knows what will be on the final exams!"

"Oh, come on, like you don't know everything already," Harry complimented, rolling his eyes.

The trio then continued joking around, too happily to notice the drama brewing from the other side of the room. While even some Gryffindors had turned to look at the Slytherin fight, Hermione, Ron, and Harry chose to ignore whatever was going on in favor of holding on to the feeling of carelessness for as long as possible. They did not know it concerned them.

They did not even know what was going until Harry heard his name.

"Then explain to me why you're such good friends with Potter, Connors! How are you going to talk your way out of that?"

Harry's head whipped up as he recognized the way his name sounded like vermin coming from the voice anger. He had not noticed before-and he couldn't imagine how he didn't-but in the middle of the room were Max and Malfoy arguing.

Malfoy looked furious; he was glaring at her angrily and his voice held such a distaste that had nothing to do with Harry's name. He was looking at Max as if she was nothing, a traitor among his community. His cheeks were flushed an angry red and it did not take a genius to notice the bulge in his pocket that was his hand clutching a wand.

Max held the same posture as him, though she was playing the defensive part. Her back was slightly facing Harry so that he could only see half her face, which looked pale and sickly. Her long curls were swept around her face, the anger in her somehow much more frightening and powerful than Draco's.

She seemed to be taking energy from the castle itself and if anybody looked closely her hand was shaking. Her wand hand was not in her pocket, but that did not mean it wasn't ready to strike. Nobody else noticed this, for they were all too concerned with the upcoming drama.

Harry noticed, though. He saw something strange happening to Max's body.

A subtle green haze was surrounding her, causing her to glow lightly in the bright room. It appeared to center around her wand hand, her pointer finger pointed at Malfoy. There was a wind whooshing around her too, though it did not seem to affect anybody else. It was only her hair that lashed widely. It was only her robes that would not stay still.

"I don't have to!" Max screamed, crossing her arms determinedly. "I owe you nothing."

Harry winced, only now realizing the importance of the situation. It was no wonder that nobody notice the strange components surrounding Max, for it was obvious what was going on. To Harry more than anybody else, he knew exactly what was happening.

Draco Malfoy had somehow found out about Max's friendship with himself, and now he was accusing her of betrayal in the foulest form. Whether he assumed their relationship was platonic or not, it was clear to all students that Max had done something never thought of before.

To those who didn't know much about her, it may be a little shocking, but nothing to cause such an ordeal as this. To the Slytherins, though, especially those in her year, it was an atrocious act of disloyalty.

As a Slytherin and a Death Eater it was completely unheard of to converse with Gryffindors, especially the ones who were friends with Harry Potter. So, it was only right to assume that it was ten times worse when that friend_ was _Harry Potter.

"Bullshit, Max!" Draco exclaimed. "You've been sneaking around with that filthy blood traitor from the moment we got together! What do you think your playing at?"

Max's eyes lit up, their dark shade of blue becoming a dangerous black. Her face was forced in perfect determination, any trace of fear or doubt disappearing. Her hand raised slightly, more waves of energy coming out from her. Part of Harry feared for Draco; was it possible that he was no match for whatever Max could do to him?

"Don't call him that," was her response, though Harry could hardly hear her. Her biting words caused Malfoy to step back in shock, a blank look on his face. Her words were not loud, but understood. It was all understood.

Harry buried his head in his hands, ignoring the rest of the argument. Guilt bubbled up inside of him, his stomach churning and making him sick. What was she doing? Harry knew why they'd kept their friendship secret, and he would certainly have never considered letting it out to anybody but Ron and Hermione that they'd been sending letters.

Yet, though she didn't come right out and say it, she'd defended him. She'd let the secret out and in turn lost everything. Harry wasn't an idiot; he knew what was in store for her now. Her life was on the line. If the Slytherins didn't do it for him, Voldemort would kill her. She wasn't _that_ important in his circle, was she? He would not spare her after this, especially if she chose the wrong actions.

What would she do? Harry almost wanted her to give in and be friends with him openly now. It would be just like old times, except now he'd have Hermione and Ron. Maybe now they'd trust her more too, though. After she gave everything up to be friends with him, maybe they'd see what he saw in her.

Harry knew it was a high chance she'd do this, though. Having already dug herself into a ditch, Max would work on damage control. She'd always been so paranoid about her status in the school, carefully placing herself in control of all others. She was the Slytherin Queen, and queens did not easily let themselves be dethroned.

At the same time Max had changed, hadn't she? She was not the same girl from Harry's Hogwarts memories. He would just have to wait and see what her choices were.

"So that's that," Ron sighed as everybody returned to their own private conversations.

"What?" Harry groaned, lifting his head slightly.

"They've broken up," Ron noted, shrugging. "Knew it wasn't going to last long. They're both too stubborn and proud."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, narrowing her eyes. "Did you not hear the fight?"

"Of course I heard the fight, Hermione. I'm not deaf-"

"Then you would know what they were fighting over," Hermione sighed. Harry shook his head, begging her not to speak the words he knew were too. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to be the reason for Max's unhappiness.

Hermione glanced pointedly at Harry, nodding in his direction. Ron followed her gaze, slumping down in his seat.

"Sorry, mate," he muttered, unsure of what to say. "I'm sure-"

"Sure of what?" Harry snapped, not looking up from his plate. "That it's not my fault?"

"Well, yeah-"

"But is it!" Harry interrupted. Ron glared, displeased with not being able to finish his thought for the third time. "Malfoy must have found the letters we've been writing. He knows we're friends. And now everybody else does too."

"You're really friends then?" Hermione questioned. Harry nodded, not having to think twice.

"Obviously."

"And you think this is a good thing? Don't you see what it's already done to her?" Hermione asked, looking towards the Slytherin table. The group of friends Max hung out with all had their heads together, whispering in hushed tones.

"Doesn't that prove that she's secretly on our side? Do you think she would have defended me in front of the whole school if she was trying to kill me?" Harry exclaimed, crossing his arms.

"Well, no," Ron admitted meekly. A smug look came upon Harry's face.

"And did you see how angry she was?"

"What?" Hermione gasped, frowning.

"She was…I don't know. There was something weird going on."

Harry paused, concentrating hard on remembering what had happened. Something strange _was_ happening, though. Harry was certain of this. Harry stood up, running a hand through his messy hair. He wanted to know what exactly happened and why. He wanted to be there for her when she was alone. Max needed him, and Harry needed her.

"I have to go find her."


	36. Who We Are

**Disclaimer:** I'm not Jo, as you know. Mostly everything belongs to her.

**A/N: **I do love this chapter. It has to be one of my favorite so far. Originally, was part of one chapter with 37, but I wanted to write too much and I just decided to make them two. It was easier this way, not so much information all crammed into one big chapter.

Put together, 36 and 37 were originally planned to be smaller, but they just spiraled out of control and suddenly there was so much to be said, so much to be done.

I mean, let's just say, in this original chapter Draco didn't have even one line. And, of course, he plays a lovely part in the final cut.

So I hope you enjoy!

* * *

The day faded into black, small lights emerging from the darkness. Twilight approached, a beauty that rustled even the hardest of souls. The day had come and gone, but to no avail. After the mornings events even the more diligent of searchers were left empty handed.

Max Connors was nowhere to be found.

Harry was uncertain there was any place she could be, and he'd had his eye on the Marauders Map all day. In class he'd constantly be skimming it, jumping up the moment he saw her name. He'd run as fast as possible to the place where she was supposed to have been, but despite his wildest efforts she was gone before he arrived. A cycle had formed. Searching, running, escaping.

Harry had skipped lunch and now dinner in search of her, but she was avoiding everybody. There was a delicacy about her, her temper and emotions teetering. One wrong word and she would no longer settle with speaking. If there was one thing Harry knew about Max it was that she preferred action over words, and often spoke and acted without thought.

A small smile played at Harry's lips. For years he'd thought he'd known Max, and in turn thought he'd known Mallory. It was not up until now that he was proud to say he knew neither. He knew a mix, maybe, the girl she was mixed with the girl she had become. He was surprised to say he liked her, too.

When Max let down her guards and dropped the bitch attitude she was strangely pleasant. This wasn't to say that she wasn't snarky and difficult-sarcasm had become a permanent part of her character. She was still opinionated and harsh, but no longer without reason. Harry had learned about her facades, and ever how she sometimes tired of them, and how she didn't truly judge those on their house or blood.

All those things she was taught to judge on were still evident, but Max was independent. Max was her own person and this exited Harry. He spent hours of his time analyzing her, debating over their relationship, just downright thinking about her without getting bored. She was a challenge, an adventure, but she was a person.

And Harry was addicted.

A part of him-the more logical part-knew this was wrong. The Hermione in him screamed in protest, constantly trying to beat sense into him. There should have been no excusing the cold fact that she was a Death Eater. An enemy. He shouldn't trust her, talk to her, should stray far away for the dangers that accompanied her.

She'd always been dangerous.

Yet, he couldn't manage to ever see her as one of them. She'd explained once, in a letter, and Harry marveled at the fact that even though it had only been a few weeks since they first started talking it had felt like forever.

_Oh, Harry, don't you get it? _

_When you say Death Eater you think of us as all the same, but it was never that way, was it? Can you compare me to Bellatrix Lestrange in all her glory, or even me to my father? What about Snape? He could never compare to the Malfoy family, however similar they may be. _

_The thing is, you are right in hating us. You, who are the poster boy for rivaling against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers, have every right to hate those of us who have chosen this path. There are some of us who are devote in their ways, who would never dream of betraying their master. It is the kind of devotedness I admire because it is something I could never accomplish. My allegiances lie in-between and I know I could never fully come to one side. _

_There are those who follow the Dark Lord because they believe in him. They have the same desires his has, the same yearning to please him, and the same belief in purity of blood. He's taken into action what every respectable family has dreamed of for years-Muggle extermination. Because muggle are petty and useless, aren't they? Part of me agrees with those above me; our lives would be far easier without them. But does that make them lesser people? I can't be sure._

_Then there are those who follow out of fear. The Dark Lord holds power, you know. Despite the hate you hold for him he has control that I also admire. I do enjoy being in charge and that is a quality he and I share. To hold control in such a way as he does is imaginable. It's do or die and there are those that hold their lives ahead of self-respect and morale. _

_And then what is left to the rest of us? Those who are born into this left are left without choice. Our fathers and forefathers have been following the Dark Lord's footsteps for years now, and some of them maybe even influencing him as a young boy. Can you imagine him as a young boy? I can not. What other choice is there then to follow him? _

_So we live our lives the way we have been raised, vicious towards those beneath us and all of us with the intentions of becoming a Death Eater. We do not think about what we are going to do, whether or not it is the right decision, because it is easier this way. Without thinking about it we feel good about ourselves, because while people like you may discriminate against us, those who we have always grown up with are proud. The way my father has learned to look at me is something I will never be able to experience anywhere else._

_So you understand why it is hard. I started thinking, considering, and now I'm wavering. It's strange and not what I expected my life to be like. It's wrong, but it is right. Being in the middle is a difficult place to be. I don't know what to do. It was easier when things were planned out. _

_I've never been a follower, always a leader, and maybe this is why I'm wavering. Rebellion runs clearly in my blood. And I'm stronger than my peers. I'm not afraid to have opinions and thoughts. _

_But I'm so afraid. _

Part of him understood exactly what she was trying to say to him. Though he knew he was on the right side, the idea of doing things for other people was a concept that was not lost on him. His intentions of defeating Voldemort were always of his choice, but he could not deny that the urgency of it was because of others. It was them he wanted to please, not just himself.

That was why Harry let Max be the exception in his hate for Slytherins and Death Eaters. He believed, despite her actions, that her heart was in the right place. Her desires were not those of Death Eaters, but those of a human. She wanted what was best for everybody and it was not her fault that she was born into a family of such distorted opinions.

Her situation, her allegiances, the mark on her arm, was not her fault. Those who follow do it blindly, and at least Max had found her sight by now. It wasn't too late for her, was it?

Harry was sure she had not yet risen on the Death Eater chain. She was of a low status, her only chance of approval by the Dark Lord coming from her father, the closest she would ever get to a true, devote follower. Especially if she continued to hang around Harry, he was sure she'd fall below the line of acceptable. Rejection and danger was sure to loom in her future.

With this thought in mind, Harry quickened his pace, burying his head into the Marauders' Map. He had to find her, to help her, because if her own kind was to shun her he had to be there for her. She had to become part of his kind. He could save her, this was for certain.

Harry was so engrossed in finding her that he did not watch his footsteps as he turned the corner. Incidentally, he found himself on the ground, the hard floor of Hogwarts pressing bruises into his back.

"Sor-"

"Potter," the voice seethed from above him, obviously having enough balance to stay on his feet. Harry jumped, eyes flashing up in anger. He searched for his wand frantically, quickly pulling it out and brandishing it before him as he came to his feet. The Map lay forgotten on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded, racking his brain for an appropriate curse to throw at the dark figure before him.

"This isn't just your school, Potter, I can go anywhere I please," Malfoy drawled, paying no attention to the wand before him. He lazily leaned against the wall, a fierce glare in his eyes.

"I swear, if you're looking for her-if you even think about going near her-"

"Near who?" Malfoy teased, shrugging innocently. "Don't think I've done anything to any of your girls yet, but it's a lovely idea. I might give it a go-"

"Max, you idiot! Leave her alone!" Harry exclaimed, pressing his wand harder against Malfoy's chest. His hands were white already from clenching it so hard, the anger brewing up inside of him faster than lighting.

Malfoy's eyes darkened, his expression losing the light sarcasm and turning serious. A strange look flickered quickly over his features before the smug smile returned.

"That," he started, placing his hand carefully on the wand pressed against him, "is none of your business."

"She's my-" Harry froze, searching for the right word to describe her. Malfoy took this opportunity to shove Harry's wand arm forcefully, watching as it fell limply to his side.

"Friend?" he suggested, his tone mocking. "I didn't realize you spoke with Slytherins."

"I don't-"

"Or Death Eaters."

Harry did not respond, finding no words that could explain exactly the way their relationship formed, exactly why he trusted her. Even if he could say something, it would not be in a language Draco Malfoy could ever understand. He spoke only in hate and violence, and Harry doubted he could ever comprehend a friendship not based on lies.

Not that he was sure his and Max's wasn't, of course.

"Shove off, Malfoy."

A chilling laughed echoed throughout the corridor, Malfoy's face formed in pure hatred.

"She was mine before she was ever yours, Potter, remember that," he whispered, letting the laughter fade as he stood blankly ahead at his enemy.

"You say that," Harry started, choosing his words very carefully. He did not know what Max had allowed Draco Malfoy to know about her, but was not taking the chances of exploiting her. If he knew something about their past then he'd make sure Harry knew. "And you may even believe it," he continued with a laugh. "But there are things you don't know. We're in the same boat, you know, hating her until this year, I mean. And it never was like Max to tell anybody everything, was it?"

"And you don't think the same holds for you?"

Harry laughed once more, pleased by Malfoy's obvious loss of control over the situation, his clear lack of confidence.

"I _know_ the same holds for me, especially. But that's what makes her, well _her._ If she told the whole truth it wouldn't be as fun."

Harry did not know what part of him was controlling his vocal cords, but it was no longer the sensible part. He'd never consciously thought about those things he voiced allowed, but truth rang in them so loudly that not even Malfoy could deny it. The two enemies stared at each other blankly, befuddled by their sudden realization. Harry had been right. They _were_ in the same boat.

Because it was then that the two of them realized and accepted that they both cared for Max Connors far more than they should. They both was out to find her, help her, figure out what exactly had happened in the Great Hall. Both of them wanted her on their own side.

But it was also then that they realized she was keeping something-something _different_- from each of them. And that that something was extremely pivotal, dangerous, and could change everything forever for the both of them.

Max Connors was a liar. She alone held the whole truth, letting others have only bits of it, releasing information piece by piece, never slipping up and letting too much out. It didn't help that she didn't know everything herself.

But, Harry found he didn't care. His only concern was finding her, making sure she was okay, and then he'd decide where he stood from there. Where both of them stood.

And _that_ was his one fault, his one weakness, his one mistake.

"So you're looking for her, then?" Malfoy questioned casually, dropping all previous accusations and belligerence.

"Yes," Harry responded honestly, shrugging helplessly.

Draco laughed, eyebrow raised in disbelief. "And you think you're going to find her?"

"I'm hoping I will," Harry muttered hotly, eyes crinkling in concern.

"Haven't you learned anything, Potter? When she doesn't want to be found she might as well be lost. If she doesn't want to be found I doubt even you could find her."

"Well," Harry mused, picking up the Map from off the floor, "that may be true, but then again, maybe I have some recourses you don't."

"Don't test me, Potter. I will not hesitate in cursing you-"

Harry did not hear the rest of Malfoy's sentence, though. He'd spotted her name and in the one place he should have just waited in the first place. How could he have been so _stupid?_ She was on the roof, probably waiting for him. It was no wonder he couldn't find her until now; she'd been mimicking the first time she told him who she was.

It was their place, had been their place, and there was no denying the fact that she was awaiting him patiently, only willing to speak after the sun set.

"See you later, Malfoy," Harry muttered, turning on his heel and heading off in the direction of the highest tower. Finally, he'd get to speak with her. Finally, he'd hear the truth.

Or what was left of it.

--

That night Draco Malfoy could not sleep. He lay restless for hours, tossing and turning in his bed. It had been a strange day for him, one of the strangest he'd experienced in a while. Even stranger than the day he'd decided he wanted Max Connors on his side-and in more ways than one.

It was only appropriate that it was she keeping him up.

Finally, the blonde boy gave up, retreating down to the empty common room to think. He was long overdue in this particular subject, having not really stopped to consider the sudden turn of events his life was taking.

He'd found it strange, at first, that his girlfriend was willing to give everything she'd built for herself up just for Potter. He knew of her mission, though, and knew that Max knew what she was doing. There was a reason she'd always been called the Slytherin Queen, and that reason being the simple fact that Max never lost control of a situation. You could think you have a hold on her, but suddenly she turns around, flashes a smile, and you're on the receiving end of one of her vicious attacks. It wasn't safe being her friend, but it was even worse to be her enemy.

Together they'd planned every moment of their argument, fabricating a perfect break up for all the world to see. There had been a plan and Max had berated him constantly on sticking to it. It had been important to her and Draco had filled out his purpose.

It was she who messed things up. He was not sure why, but somewhere in-between the yelling and lying she'd trailed off the script. She was supposed to prattle on about not sneaking off with Potter and at least _tried_ to fight off the accusations, but instead she'd defended him.

Draco remembered that exact way her voice lowered, a dangerous hiss he'd heard often before. He also knew what it meant, that she was really angry. He was almost certain it wasn't something she could have duplicated. Her defense had ended their fight and their relationship, but Draco wasn't sure who was acting anymore.

He'd seen in clearly in her features; she was genuinely pissed off as she spoke the words that ended it all. After seeing this, Draco felt it was only necessary to be pissed off right back at her. When he'd spoken those words-it's over-a small bit of him had meant it. If she was going to go against their plans, defending blood traitors, and betraying him than maybe they shouldn't be together in the first place.

So what was the reason she'd been so angry, then? Had she simply riled herself up, gotten caught up in the moment, and gone back to arguing for the sake of arguing? Or did she not believe him capable of pulling off the façade and therefore planned to leave their script, making him angry enough to stop acting.

Because it couldn't possibly because she actually had any feeling for Potter. She hated him and made it clear at every possible moment she could. Well, at least she _did_ hate him, because now Draco wasn't so sure.

He'd looked for Max all day, but had not found her. He wanted answers to her mysteries, the truth behind her lies, but instead he simply found Potter and this only opened up more questions.

When he'd told Potter that nonsense about her being his he hadn't actually meant it. He was in a rotten mood and said a lot of things to Potter that weren't actually true. He just enjoyed riling up the stupid prat, and grasped the chance to vent his anger off on an unwilling victim.

So it was a total surprise when his response got Draco thinking far more than he should be.

How could he have missed it before? How could Potter figure it out before him, the idiot?

Max was hiding something from him-from Potter too-but they were on the same side. What secrets did she hold that she could not tell him? How exactly was he to trust her as easily before now?

What Draco could not figure out, though, is why Potter didn't seem to care. Did her lies have something to do with _him_? Was it not Potter who had far much more need to distrust Max for she was against him in all sense of reality. So, if this was true, and if it was also true that Potter knew of secrets and lies then why was he so easy to trust her?

He was surely not that naïve. If anything, Potter would have the sense to discard his quality of blind trust with the first signs of war. Draco knew he'd forgotten about that long ago.

So it was plain that Potter knew something he did not. She'd said something, done something, to him to convince him of her loyalty, despite the knowledge that she could never reveal the whole truth. There was something about their relationship that Draco did not know nor understand. He couldn't figure out what would cause the way fit so easily as friends, even when they were meant to be enemies.

He couldn't figure out why Potter strived to protect her so, defending her against all those who striked out against her. Even he had not shown that amount of devotion. Then again, Draco reassured himself, he was not a Gryffindor and certainly not as foolish to be acting like one.

With a slow curiosity brewing inside of him, Draco finally let himself drift off to a light sleep, searching for some rest before morning broke. He vowed to himself, that night, that he would not simply let Max's secrets rest. He would fight hard and dirty to figure them out, whatever they were, and he'd start tomorrow.

If only he could find her. Because what reason did she have to avoid him?

Unless, of course, she was hiding something.


	37. Black Like Me

**Disclaimer:** If I owned this it wouldn't be here. XD

**A/N: **This one is shorter because it was originally part of chapter 36, but it worked better on its own. ;)

Sorry there weren't any posts yesterday. I've found myself obsessed with slash again and had half a mind to convert this story into Drarry. But alas, it has better plans sigh

* * *

When Harry found Max she did not speak, did not look at him, and did not even acknowledge his presence.

She held her silence, a faraway look in her eyes that contrasted strongly with the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Her thoughts were far away from the place she sat on the roof of the school, and when such events as this mornings weighed heavy on her shoulders there was no room for conversation.

Harry did not press her for information; she'd talk when she was ready. And he'd stay up all night waiting for her. Instead, he settled himself next to her, occupying his time by trying to decipher her thoughts from her expression. However, whether she was putting on a mask or just had a very constant thought pattern Harry would never knew; her facial features never did change.

Eventually, hw let mind wander along with his eyes. There was a certain attraction to the starlit sky, more beautiful than he remembered. When was the last time he'd really looked at the things he'd always took for granted? How often did she?

Owls not busy with delivering letters hooted in the distance and every so often the trees would ruffle as a flock of birds flew out, relocating to a saver area. Harry vaguely wondered what was down there scaring him, but he'd already seen so many horrors in the forest that he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

The grounds extended further and further, beyond the horizon, and the lake rippled with noise as fish and other magical creatures that inhabited it came to life. Harry had always thought the night should be silent, but he now realized there was a whole community he'd been missing.

There was a whole other life out there, creatures he didn't even know existed before now. There was a society of animals that lives revolved around the blackness of night instead of straying away from it that any sane one would. There were dangers that lurked in the darkness, but this did not stop the owls from hooting or the fish from jumping. This did not hinder their life.

And that thought was strangely comforting to Harry.

"Harry?" a quiet voice broke the silence like a knife, and even though it had been no higher than a whisper the sound played in Harry's head as loud as she had screamed.

"Yeah?" he responded, dragging himself out of his thoughts. Max sighed, hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes did not meet him, though he could see the silver reflect off them from the angle in which he sat.

"What do you honestly think of me?" she asked him, turning her head quickly to glare at him with a suddenly stony face. "And don't even think about lying. I can handle the truth."

Harry paused, taking a moment to examine her posture. She'd become stiff in facing him, anger radiating from her skin in a warmth that couldn't be explained by touch. The moon shone brightly on her pale skin, illuminating the way her lips were pursed in displeasure. Then, Harry spoke, letting his heart take control rather than his brain.

"I think you're confused," he started, "and stubborn, but not in a bad way. I think you're kinder than you think, a great person at heart. I think you're wonderful."

Her face softened, a hint of a smile playing across her lips before she turned her head away from him, letting her hair fall like a curtain as it covered her face. She sighed hopelessly, mumbling a sentence that struck Harry's every nerve, pierced his every bone, rustled his very soul.

"You're wrong."

The sentence, so small and simple, left Harry aghast. Her implications, though not said allowed, were to warn him off. Silently, but loudly, she pleaded for his rejection, believing herself not worthy of his friendship. She'd isolated herself from him, taken herself off the same planet they lived on and moved to alien nations.

"What?" was all Harry could manage to choke out.

"I'm not wonderful. I've done-will do so many horrible things. I'm a traitor to every hand I touch."

As if to prove her wrong, Harry gathered her hands up quickly, holding them securely in his own. His heart thumped widely, afraid of what he was about to do. She turned to face him, pools of wetness forming in the bottom of her eye. Harry smiled encouragingly, wiping a lingering pool of salt from eyelashes.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself mentally for the chances he was about to take. To open up in this way…It was not something Harry had planned on doing ever again. He leaned closer and Max's mouth pouted unhappily.

"Do you know of Sirius Black?" he whispered, the name carving notches in his heart. He had not spoken the name allowed before and it left a funny taste in the back of his mouth. Something bitter formed underneath his tongue, but he forced it back in determination. This was a story that Max needed to hear and he would not rest until she got the chance to listen.

"Of course," Max laughed, curious as to why the subject was being brought up. "The mass murderer who wasn't really a murderer at all? Even I've heard the stories-and from both sides. But what does that have anything to do with-"

"He was my godfather," Harry interrupted, not bearing to listen to her prattle on so casually about something that he held so dear to his heart. Half of him was glad to have somebody who didn't act as if they were walking on eggshells around him, but not even this could numb the pain he felt when he thought of the man he'd planned his future with. It was not a death he could get over, would ever get over, just as Sirius could never get over the death James, Harry's father.

"Oh," Max breathed, realization hitting her like a brick. She remembered, though not in much detail, about the life Harry had outside of Hogwarts. Not unlike herself, he was hated at home for what he was, what he wasn't, and who he was turning out to be. Ever since Harry could remember he'd hated it there, a fact he was no hesitant to share with anybody who would listen. Even Max could decipher what the small fact meant about Harry's life.

For a few brief moments he'd had a chance at a normal wizard life, with a man who loved him, cared for him, and who Harry respected and loved equally in return.

That is, until he was killed by a Death Eater, one of the same ones Max had shared a meal with over Christmas break.

"And you know of the Black family name?"

This subject was one Max was more aware of. For years the Blacks had been a well respected pureblood family, one of the firsts to follow The Dark Lord in his question for purification and domination. She hadn't ever considered it before, but at one point the Sirius had to have been a part of that. Though he was now considered innocent on the one side, he was a disgrace to the other side. Mostly he wasn't talked about anymore. Many people had forgotten.

Harry had not, though, and as he braced himself for the retelling of his lost godfather's story he fought back the hot tears that brewed in his eyes. Two of them crying would do no good. Besides, this conversation was not for him. It was not he who had been publicly humiliated that day.

"Sirius, at first, probably followed all the correct rules. He was a wondrous addition to the family, handsome and clever. They thought he would follow in his brother's footsteps-never mind his brother was younger-"

"Wait. Sirius had a brother?" Max questioned.

"Yeah. Regulus. You didn't know?" Harry asked, a little surprised she had not heard of the second Black brother, the good Black brother.

"I recognize the name, but we don't tend to talk about things past. Or those who have failed Him," Max explained and Harry was shocked to find that Max's knowledge of information was so one-sided.

"Well, anyway," Harry continued, coughing. "The Black family, as you know, thought themselves royal, pure, and all the rest as you can imagine. But Sirius grew up I guess. He formed his own opinions. He," Harry stopped, struggling to gather his thoughts and composure.

"Are you okay? You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," Max whispered, placing a light feminine hand on his shoulder. Harry shook it off.

"I want to," he convinced her. "Sirius eventually didn't believe in what his parents did anymore. Despite the fact that he'd been brought up to think himself higher than others because of his blood and name, Sirius saw things differently. He'd made the best friends he'd ever had in my dad and Lupin, despite their blood. So, in the end he defied his parents and everything they believed in. He chose his own path and followed it.

"Now, I'm not saying it was easy. I'm sure it was hard for him and I'm sure it was hard for others to trust him, but he stayed at my dad's house after getting kicked out his own. After that he was blasted off the family tree. But that didn't matter to him, I don't think. He hated his own family and had created a new one in the Marauders and their family and friends. Sirius didn't do it alone because he had my dad. Sirius had my dad and you will have me," Harry finished, feeling proud of himself. Above all this was one reason to stay by Max's side, despite all the reasons there were to stray away.

James Potter, his father, had took a chance with Sirius Black, part of one of the darkest families of their time. When Sirius finally broke free of his treacherous family he had friends beside him, his very best being James.

In that same way, Max and his godfather were not so different. If she did choose, finally, to break away from everything she'd ever known then Harry would be there for her, no matter what. That's what friends are for and that is what his father would have wanted him to do.

Something in Max's heart stirred as she realized the importance Harry's story held. Not only had he told it to help her, but it had helped him. Without realizing it he was able to talk about Sirius for the first and not break out into a fit or rage or hysteria. It was not a happy topic, but it brought a sense of peace upon the both of them. Harry had shared a piece of himself, given a piece to Max and that was something Max would always clutch to, use as a crutch when all else was lost. This conversation over all the others would later give her a hope she could find nowhere else.

Because Harry had not shared this piece of him with anybody else, not even his most trusted friends. He'd chosen Max, the one he knew would understand the most because of the position she was in. So willingly he'd offered his heart up, the truth a proud song among the darkness.

It was too bad Max could never truly do the same for him.


	38. Winds of Change

**Disclaimer:** Rowling owns it.

**A/N: **Really, my favorite part of writing is babbling on and on for pages about absolutley nothing. There is a small amount of diolouge in this chapter, just warning you. Talking overrated.

However, up until now everything was pre-written and this is the last chapter written out so far. Of course, there will be many more, but they will come in long, drawn out, spaces of time. Because now I have to actually write again. FOSHOW. So enjoy this final chapter while it lasts and look out for the next one!

* * *

The birds chirped happily, oblivious to the goings on of the castle, as usual. Flowers bloomed courageously, prepared to face a lifetime of hard winters and dry summers. Animals danced about the forest, retracing steps they followed every day.

Max was surprised at this, because she felt as if the trees should be growing out of the sky, cotton candy shaped mists hovering over the ground, as if to mimic the way her own life had turned upside-down. She almost imagined the Cheshire Cat to appear out of nowhere, smiling as he warned her of dangerous decks of cards ahead. Was that a rabbit she noticed hopping near the window?

In all aspects of reality the world had turned upside-down. The great Slytherin Queen had fallen, crawling back to the friend of her past, who just happened to be Harry Potter. Had anybody heard of the story they would not have believed it. It really was a shame the whole school had experienced it first hand, witnessing the fight that had broken out between the Queen and her King.

Yet, even in her lowest times the Queen was not alone. She'd find new princes to marry, new subjects to follow her, and new enemies to fight against. It was sad, though, to see the complete one-eighty of their fearless leader. It would be easy to step all over her now, for even she knew of the embarrassment she'd thrown upon the Slytherin house. Still, a subject does not neglect its Queen so easily. A miniscule fear still remained in the hearts of the Slytherins, for shock had not quite hit and denial still remained burning strong.

Maybe, Max pondered, the whole school would combust from sheer shock and anxiety. Maybe the world would be petty enough to really revolve around her, spinning and shaking as Max readjusted her position.

No, Max was stupid to think such thoughts. The world went on as she'd observed so closely before. It was only her world that felt different. It was only her world that had stopped and changed paths.

And yet, everything felt so eccentrically the same.

For, though Max had seemingly sided with Harry, her true intentions remained with the Slytherins. Gryffindors, aside from Harry, still annoyed her to no end. Voldemort was still her true leader and master; how lucky she was that he knew this! She was only following _his_ orders, after all. Even more importantly, her King was still in place, even if he pretended not to be.

Max took a deep breathe, placing in the corners of the corridors. She had not returned to her common room that night, not daring to enter a place full of hate and potential danger so soon after her betrayal.

She was a floater now, dancing between the lines of good and evil, Slytherin and Gryffindor, dark and light. Her lines had been blurred, character twisted and mixed until some sort of ghost was able to appear, leaving Max alone in the darkness.

Harry had left her that night, but only because she'd forced him too. It was important he keep his life, the one he had before her, safe. He would sleep, though not well, that night and hopefully he could be strong enough for the both of them the following day.

So, truly alone, Max had found a safe haven in the empty corridors, not quite sleeping, but not quite awake. She wondered how long she could stare there, in the darkness, before people found her. Before they noticed she was gone. Forever, possibly, she could desert her world all tighter, living like a monster in the corners of the castle.

It was delusional to think such thoughts, Max knew, as Harry found her bright and early. She didn't know how he managed it, for it didn't appear he'd have looked very long. They didn't speak as he approached her, offering a hand to help her off the ground. He knew why she was there, what she'd been doing by hiding, and he understood. There are some things that need not be spoken aloud for them to be understood.

"I'm here with you," he whispered into her hear, not releasing her hand. Max clutched it desperately, not realizing her own fear before now. She hadn't know how hard the tear from her house would be, how horrible she knew she'd be treated, or how afraid she really would be.

Harry's hand was warm, and though their embrace meant nothing more than friendship he made no effort to let go. She squeezed it often as they walked to breakfast, constantly making sure he was still there, still by her side, for she knew now she could not face her peers without him.

She could not enter the Great Hall after so much was lost, without a bit of gain to show in return. Her plan had worked flawlessly, her and Harry now rooted permanently in a friendship that had been dormant for far too long.

"I'm scared," she confessed, surprised at the venerable honesty in her own voice. It was a trait Max was unaware she had, so used to lying and keeping her heart far away from all situations. Gryffindors wore their hearts on their sleeves, though, and now Max was a temporary Gryffindor so it was only prudent she join them. She was shocked at how easy it was, though.

"Don't be," Harry said, turning to face her with his eyes of emerald. Emotions flowed strong in them; Max's heart stirred. "I won't let anybody hurt you. You'll be fine," he assured, smiling.

In any other situation Max would have been offended by the way she was being spoke to, as if she were incapable of handling herself. As if she needed Harry. Max was not one to need anybody and she didn't appreciate the way he spoke as a protector, the way a father would speak to his daughter, possibility.

Max couldn't bring herself to retort, though, and instead felt an immense appreciation for Harry. In all honesty she did feel like a child at the moment, and it was wonderful not to be alone. It was wonderful to have somebody around that cared enough to promise her safety.

Nobody had ever done that before. Whether it was because nobody cared or nobody could promise such a think, nobody had showed such protection over her. She believed every word Harry said when he told her not to be afraid, he was there. Though he'd broken the promises they shared as children it was a new age now. He would not break these ones.

It was a shockingly horrible feeling, though, to realize the lengths Harry would go to protect her. She'd become one of him now, part of the special group he'd do anything to keep safe. He's jump in front of a killing curse for him and Max's heart ached to know she could never do the same. That wasn't what she was in this for.

Bitter truth thrust itself upon her as Max came to terms with the fact that she could never be enough for Harry's loyalty. Whatever friendship she could give him, because Max knew there was some that she could, it would never amount to what he would give her in return. Of course, he'd understand this, understand the inner battles she had, but not because he knew what they were. He could only guess, for Max would answer no questions.

The familiar pang of guilt washed through her, settled down in its permanent place near her heart. It would not go away, not ever, now especially that she'd come full circle, back to being Harry Potter's friend. Max had admitted it to herself, finally, that she had always wanted his friendship back, ever since she lost it. And even though the friendship was based on her intentions to kill him Max was grateful for the second chances she would be offered. Until the final moments, until she absolutely had to, Max would not screw it up.

That was a fact, and it was not something she was doing for Lord Voldemort.

Harry squeezed her hand, opening the doors and entering. Max ignored the eyes that she knew would fly to their bodies and instead focused on those she'd get lost looking into, the shades of emerald she could never forget, even if Voldemort obliviated her a thousand times.

Max Connors loved Harry in ways she couldn't herself describe. Looking up at him and seeing the affection that lay in his emeralds it was such a contrast to the cold look she'd received so many times before that Max couldn't stop herself from grinning.

Though in a purely platonic way Max could feel nothing but the love for him, and thankfulness for the friendship they'd rekindled. Though there were no romantic intentions-Max was still devoted to Draco-there was also no denying that it was a pure loved, only tainted by the mission bestowed upon her.

Max shook her head, inhaling deeply as she kept her eyes safely to the floor, away from any faces that could hinder her thinking. It was important now, more than ever, to keep her head.

With one movement Max pushed all thoughts of her Death Eater core in the back of brain, promising herself to focus on her friendship with Harry and not the reason behind it. She was not a Death Eater with him, not anything resembling the evil Slytherin she was before. She'd bullshit her way through telling the Dark Lord whatever he wanted to know, becoming the first ever Slytherin to be friends with the Gryffindors.

Max Connors had become a new person, but whether this person was more like Mallory or more like Max it was unknown.

Harry released her hand as they sat down across from his friends, leaving a cold space where his body had been. A wind, strangely similar to the one that had been so evident at yesterday's breakup, blew in, fluttered Max's hair around her face.

_"Harry," _Hermione Granger hissed, leaning across the table to scold him. Max frowned slightly, angered by the bushy haired girl. It was obvious she was about to berate Harry for his relations with Max, but was she really tasteless enough to do it here, in front of her?

"Hermione, no," Harry protested, holding up his hand, the same one he'd used to hold Max's.

"What about Ginny, mate? What about my sister?" Ron demanded, his face turning red from anger. Max bit her lip, not knowing until now what the extent of the trio's hate for her had been. Also, was it really her fault Harry had broken up with girlfriend? She'd suspected it, but hearing it confirmed so viciously sent chills through her spine.

"Ron, you know this has nothing to do with that. That was about me, okay? This is about Max."

Three pairs of eyes turned on Max then, and she found it was more unbearable than the hundreds that had turned on her as she walked in. Two pairs glared, challenging her, as if to ask what she was doing there, invading their world. The third, as promised, was encouraging, standing strong and being there for her. The mouth they connected to defended her, even against his friends.

Now, it was Max's turn to make the first move. The only problem was, she wasn't quite sure how to play this game.

"Don't hate me," she blurted, eyes open in fear. She couldn't think of anything else to say, really, except the pleads that escaped her lips almost without warning. In turn, Hermione opened her mouth to retort something, but having no expected such candid responses closed it.

Ron, however, was not so merciful. Whether he was a generally more angry person, still riled up about his sister, or just having a bad day, his glare did not soften the way Hermione's had. The fact that he was the only one whose anger still burned strong only seemed to add to the flame.

"Why shouldn't we? You've done nothing but hurt us in all your years at Hogwarts!"

Max turned to look at Harry, missing the safety she felt when they'd held hands before. He was leaving her alone this time, though. He couldn't force her upon his friends and for that matter wasn't going to. His loyalty to them, Max realized, was stronger than that which he held for her. Sure, he would uphold his promise that she wouldn't be hurt, but he could not save her from the cryptic eyes of his friends.

"I know," Max admitted, the perfection of the plan faltering in her brain. How much longer could she uphold a friendship with Harry when his own friends hated her? If forced to choose, she was sure which one it would be and that would not be her.

"Just because Harry has some wild idea that you've changed doesn't mean we do," Ron went on, glancing briefly at his friend. Hermione sat quietly, staring at an interesting piece of skin on her hand. She'd taken herself out of the equation, keeping her head, but leaving Max within the fury of Ronald Weasley.

"I know that," Max exclaimed, her temper bubbling. "Don't you dare for one second think I don't know the circumstances I've put myself in here," she seethed, standing suddenly. A few nearby eyes turned to face her. "You've got no reason to trust me and neither of us have any reason to be friends, but this is where we are. I can explain everything to you, I promise, but not now-"

"Why not? You have to double check your story first?" Ron demanded, crossing his arms. Max glared at him, towering over the sitting boy. He did not recoil, as she had been so used to before, but rather stood his ground, unafraid.

He knew, though Max's hot head had not recognized it yet, that Max could no longer to anything to him. If she so much as brandished her wand in the situation Harry would grow angry and leave her. If she was going to stay within the safety of her old friend she was going to have to be civil to his new friends, no matter how hard it was.

This did not stop the girl from clutching her wand angrily inside her cloak.

"You just don't get it, Weasley, do you?" she yelled, and like the day before a gust of wind blew in, blowing her hair around furiously. Her eyes were alit with anger, almost blank as night. "I can't be a double agent because I don't have another side to go to. After yesterday do you think anybody from my house, all my friends, is going to want to talk to a traitor like me? Even if I wanted to give you all out I couldn't because I have nobody left on that side of things," Max sighed, her voice softening. "I gave all of that up. And that's why you should listen to me because I'm sure as hell not giving this up either."

Harry watched her carefully as she spoke, the words flowing out dangerously as her anger grew. He knew she was growing irritated with Ron and Harry could see the clash from a mile away. While Hermione may give Max the chance to tell her story Ron would not, his stubbornness overruling Harry's wishes.

Yet, for the second time since he'd seen Max argue he wasn't focused on what she was saying, but rather what she was doing. It seemed habit, by now, that the weather come into the picture and bring life to whatever battles she fought. Her movements were quick and unexpected, though her arm did not leave the sleeve of her cloak, where Harry was sure she was clutching her wand. Her olive skin was losing color in her wand arm, proof that she wouldn't stand for Ron's behavior any longer.

You can take a girl out of Slytherin, but you can't take the Slytherin out of a girl…

Harry noticed, also for the second time, that a green haze had surrounded Max, subtle enough that he was sure nobody else noticed. The wind did not startle it like it did her hair, and it hovered peacefully in an outline of her body, as preparing itself for what Max was going to do next.

Max was not controlling this, though. Her focus was deeply on Ron, nobody else in the room important. When Max fought she threw all of herself into the argument; maybe that was why she often won them.

Her wand arm was still shaking, though, making it painfully obvious that she was ready to strike. There was no proper way to explain what was going on with the girl's body, for not even she was aware of it. Out of everybody in the whole room Harry was the only one who noticed, or maybe even the only one who cared for that matter. Harry's never seen anything like this before, never heard of an energy that surrounded and engulfed a person like this.

A wave of fear shot through his veins, another quiet reminder than Max wasn't normal, that there were things about her that Harry didn't know, wouldn't ever know, probably.

It was chilling to think that aside from that there were things about herself that even she didn't know.

"Fine," Ron agreed, not having a retort to her long speech. "This afternoon, after class."

"Thank you," Max said coolly and Harry watched as the magic about her settled, her skin returning to its normal color and the girl was normal again, though she made no attempts to move. Her hand had slipped out of her pocket, though, and Harry could see the tips of her fingers were red from the blood rush.

"Sit down, Max," Harry soothed. She turned to him then, as if just realizing he was there. With a nod she obliged, melding back into the large pack of students. It seemed, in the time it took for her to argue with Ron, the rest of his class had scooted away from her, leaving a large empty space beside her.

Harry sighed for the umpteenth time that morning and took her hand again, offering her an encouraging smile. She didn't speak, but her mouth turned upwards a bit and she happily placed a piece of toast on her plate and persisted to nibble at it slowly.

Harry's eyes traveled throughout the room then, not willing to face his friend quite yet. He saw Ginny, a few seats down, glaring at him with such fury he winced. Her eyes were hard, a strange look for the fiery red head. They traveled down his arm, where it connected ever so lightly with Max's.

With a jolt Harry realized Ginny though he was _with_ Max. The idea was preposterous for him. Sure, he'd held her hand for support as she entered the new word she'd created for herself, but never before had Harry thought of Max Connors in a way that wasn't purely _platonic. _How strange of Ginny to think differently.

He was surprised that, other than shock, Harry felt indifferent to whatever Ginny thought of him. Had it not been weeks before that he'd been infatuated with her? How could that have faded so quickly. He saw, though, why Ron was angry at him. He'd, in essence, replaced Ginny with Max, an action that was not to be taken lightly.

It also, apparently, angered the Slytherins, for as Harry examined the room he caught each and every one of them periodically gazing over. Some glared, like her old friend, others just stared in shock. It was quite clear, however, that Max would not be welcomed back, not after what she did.

Harry also noticed, with a hint of smugness, that Draco Malfoy was not amongst the group.

--

"So that's that," Max finished, folding her hands and placing them delicately in her lap. She'd just finished explaining to Ron and Hermione exactly what had caused her to give up her Slytherin life in favor for Harry's.

"That's that?" Ron questioned, still furious. "You just woke up one day and decided _not_ to be a Death Eater?"

To Harry's immense surprise Max laughed, something strange and surprising, for it was of genuine amusement, almost warm in contrast the usual biting words and noises that came out of her mouth. She'd just finished telling Ron and Hermione why she'd chosen to give up her Slytherin ways and throughout the whole ordeal she'd remained fairly calm.

It was a striking difference when compared to the way she'd acted at breakfast that morning, but Harry found he favored it. It melded nicely with the weather, for she had chosen to tell her story outside by the lake. It was bit chilly outdoors, but the sky was clear and the water a lovely shade of blue. They sat under a tree as she spoke, her words animated, tone pleasant, though it was of dark things she said.

Harry found he relished every moment of her story, for it was the first time this year he could finally piece everything together. Max hadn't gone into much detail, but finally everything came together in order, no longer a puzzle without pieces but a quilt without so much as a stitch out of place.

She'd explained to them so carefully, the words not coming easily, how Harry-himself-had pestered her constantly about her drawings, bringing back rough memories from the past until she finally could not take it anymore. She had chosen, tired of all the doubts that rang through her mind, and so she broke away, desperate to redeem herself from the constant regret she felt so intensely _all the time. _

Harry was happy to have played such a part in it, so much that he couldn't understand why Ron was still acting so belligerently. Even if she was lying-which Harry knew she wasn't-she'd been very convincing. What was there not to believe?

"Well," Max started, considering his comment for a moment, "There was a bit more thought put into it than that. After all, it is not easy to leave everything you've known behind, even if it is for the better."

"And why should we trust you?" Ron demanded, still filled with doubt.

"I can't give you a reason, Weasley," Max sighed, looking out towards the lake. "If I were you I wouldn't trust me either, but I'm telling the truth."

"Because I trust her," Harry interjected, adding a lovely awkward tension that pleasured itself in hanging in the air. For the third time that day Harry took her hand, as if to visually show the alliance they now had.

"Harry's right," Hermione whispered, the first words she'd spoken about the situation since that morning. Ron gasped, struggling with his words and spluttering about, not believing the words that touched his ears.

"Are you bloody _crazy,_ Hermione?"

"Harry has made it clear that he trusts her," Hermione started, taking Ron's own hand. "It seems to me that we are either with him or not."

"But-" Ron fumed, his face growing red with rage.

"I'm sorry about your sister," Max blurted unintentionally. "If that what this is about," she added. "I didn't mean to _steal_ Harry away from anybody."

"Yes, well," Ron mumbled, running out of useful responses.

"It's okay," Hermione said politely. "Ron and I should go, though. I promised to help him with an essay," she finished, taking Ron's hand. He looked up at her, befuddled, but followed her lead, leaving Max and Harry alone.

"Thank you," Max started, the beginning to a well rehearsed speech about how grateful she was for him taking her in. Harry shook his head, putting a finger to her lips. Max shut her mouth, looking up at him with confusion. He'd lost the warmth in his eyes, the one she'd been so used to all day. She'd enjoyed the encouraging looks he'd given her, a constant reminder of his friendship and protection from vicious peers. Now, though, he stared at her with a coldness she could only remember him using on various Slytherins, including herself.

In fact, Harry looked downright angry as he stared at her, preventing her from speaking.

"Listen," he started, offering her a hand as he stood up. The kind gesture confused Max, a direct contrast from the icy look on his face, the chilling bite to his tone.

"Harry-" she pleaded, an immediate reaction to ask for forgiveness because of whatever she'd done.

"No, it's my turn to talk now," he interrupted, releasing her hand and standing before her. "I'm risking a lot by befriending you like this. Not only is there a chance you could be still on Voldemort's side, but I'm sure Ron and Hermione will be furious with me later, after you've gone. Hermione only acts polite, after all.

"But I trust you, Max. We were friends before and I can't imagine you could have lost all of what you were back then. I want to make up for lost time, for broken promises, and I find myself believing in you _now_, liking you _now,_ even when you aren't the Mallory I remember," Harry paused, glancing at something out of Max's vision.

"However," he started again, and his eyes of emerald darkened considerably. "You've chosen sides now. This is permanent because if you _ever_ turn your back on me, if Ron and Hermione turn out to be right and you are working for Voldemort, then there will be no forgiveness. I will sell you out for who you truly are, a Death Eater, and land your ass right in Azkaban. And if that doesn't work I'll make life hell for you here. Or worse, there will be no mercy. I'll kill you myself."


	39. Shady Business

**Disclaimer: **Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N: **So it's been a while, hasn't it? But despite popular belief, just because I'm furiously finishing the upload of _The Only One He Ever Loved_ does not mean I haven't been writing away for this story. And with good outcome, don't you think? Over 5,000 words, ready for your reading pleasure. I do hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Max could not stop shaking as she escaped into the darkness of the dungeons, plunging deeper and deeper into the school, towards her comfort and stability. Something like a mix between fear and adrenaline pulsed through her veins, chilling her blood and blocking her nerves. She stumbled amongst the darkness, not bothering to pull out her wand and cast a simple _Lumos._

She'd gathered all her courage and acting skills that afternoon, keeping her head all the way until dinner where she'd eaten quickly and then bid her new friends goodnight, promising them-mostly Harry-that she'd be alright and had to face her house eventually. Harry had offered her an encouraging smile, but it failed to warm her insides as it had that morning. She'd nodded, waving as she rushed out of the Great Hall and headed towards the dungeons.

At first, she hadn't intended to actually return to the Slytherin Common Room, a place that was becoming more and more foreign by the minute, but the moment she was out of the eyes of others she craved the room. She missed the black couches and green walls, the soft coloring of the carpet and warm feel of the fire.

She _missed_ being in her element, for as much as she enjoyed spending time with Harry Max was a Slytherin. She liked Slytherin House and though she rarely got along with them, she liked her housemates. Though things could never be the same for her again, she missed the security and predictability that came with the petty people of Slytherin. They were sly and cunning, always looking out for themselves, but Max was the same way and she didn't care.

She'd done enough caring for the day and had to admit that being a Gryffindor was hard work. They paid attention to things like kindness and compassion, things that Slytherins so easily forgot. Gryffindors thought about others where as Slytherins were only concerned with themselves. Gryffindors wore their hearts on their sleeve not because they were naïve, Max realized, but because they _could._ They didn't have the hide their anger or sadness because there was always a friend around to help them be happy again.

Perhaps it wasn't that Max didn't enjoy they Gryffindor traits, because at time she had to confess that she _did._ It was just hard, for the first time in her life, to lie constantly when all she wanted to do was to tell the truth. She was now more cautious than ever, watching her tongue every so carefully and thinking through every word that came out of her mouth before it was spoken. Her actions were watched ever so carefully and in return Max acted carefully. She was hesitant with everything, polite as ever, and struggles to maintain a relaxed attitude.

With a jolt of shock Max realized that she didn't so much hate Gryffindors as much as she hated _pretending. _Their nobility was infecting her, causing her to doubt all those things she believed in. She found that she rather liked the relaxed way of the Gryffindor, the friendship that seeped from every bit of their bodies. She envied the close ties they held with people, the way they stood together in unity and care. Max wanted it, more than she understood, and she hated having to lie and fake it.

Most of all, Max was _terrified_ of being found out.

There was a reason she had wanted to get away from Harry so quickly. After a somewhat truce with Ron and Hermione things persisted to go back to a place that was relatively normal. Harry's friends were if not friendly, civil, and conversation was slowly beginning to come with ease. Sure, it was awkward at first, but Harry was stubborn and determined. He pushed it with all the Gryffindor strength he had until all four of them were able to maintain a conversation.

For Max, it should have been easy, but distractions glazed over her eyes, dulling her usually sharp brain. Harry's words rang through her head, playing over and over and sending her into fits of panic. Her breathing would become ragged, her movements forced and Max was ever so thankful to finally be out of their penetrating gazes.

It wasn't as if Max had done anything to give them belief that she was a traitor. In fact, Max hadn't even spoken about her mission aloud in days. The only real person she could talk about it with was Draco and she'd been avoiding him ever since the break-up, which seemed to have happened so long ago. With a jolt Max realized it had only been yesterday.

Max wasn't afraid of Harry, though. She knew him, had known him, and there wasn't a bit about him that was unpredictable. That's what made this mission so easy. That's what made falling into her mask a simple task, like brushing her teeth. Harry was noble, kind, and he would not betray her in the ways that she would him. He did the _right_ thing, always knew what the right thing was, as opposed to Max who blurred lines and dances around edges. For Harry things were black and white, but for Max things were beginning to turn grey.

Yet, his words still struck her. She'd believed up until this point that his trusted her blindly. Sure, she had offered as many reasons for him to trust her as she could think of, but was he really stupid enough to do so? If she were in his position Max surely wouldn't have agreed to befriend herself. Though thankful, she was baffled by his acceptance. She'd thought it was secure, unwavering, and trusted it faithfully. It fit Harry's character flawlessly, after all.

Max had underestimated The Boy Who Lived, though. He'd grown up, found some brains since she'd last evaluated him. Max held no doubt that his words rang of honesty, pure Gryffindor honesty, and were he ever to find out about her betrayal Max knew she was done for.

She knew from the very beginning that if she failed her mission she would be killed. Voldemort held little mercy and he had entrusted her with such a great task because he wanted her to fill it out, not fail. If Max couldn't get enough information she would be tortured, but if she lost Harry's trust completely she would be killed. She'd never imagined it to be similar circumstances on the other side, though.

Max had seen the look in Harry's eyes, had witnessed the force in which he spoke, and now Max found herself trying to please two people who wanted totally different things. Because, in all honesty, if Voldemort didn't get to her first than Harry would finish her off without a second thought. He knew he was in a war now and no decision was made without careful thought. He was cautious now, his trust never coming in full.

The task was nowhere near done. Max had thought the hard part was over, but she was realizing ever so quickly that the difficulties where just beginning.

Before Max had thought the war was about choosing sides. Being the perfect pureblood Slytherin that she was, Max chose Voldemort's. She knew it was considered to be the "dark side," but it was what her father expected of her. It was what anybody would have wanted and she was proud of the position she held. She'd thought she'd been happy about it, too, but now Max wasn't so sure.

After tasting the life that could have been hers, had she sides with Harry, Max was pretty sure she'd created a side of her own. Now it wasn't about making sure Voldemort or Harry won. It was about staying alive, pleasing those that mattered, and hoping that nobody would see through her lies. In truth, Max would say and do whatever it took to ensure her survival. She'd become far too deeply involved in the war to do anything else.

Max sighed as stopped in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room, pleased to see such a familiar place. She muttered the password quietly, the portal opening to reveal an almost empty common room.

"I was wondering when you'd get around to coming here," drawled the voice of Draco Malfoy. Max winced. Of all the people she dreaded seeing Draco was up there in the top ten. She knew she'd messed up the faux break-up-she hadn't mean to-and now Draco would have so many questions Max couldn't answer.

She hadn't thought about the break-up in a while, actually. It seemed like a different world, but Max really couldn't be bothered to figure out why she hadn't followed the script. She'd just gone on impulse, on anger, and things had ended with the same result so why did it matter?

"Coming here wasn't really first on my list of priorities," she retorted, stepping towards her boyfriend with a sly grin. He raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. Max's expression did not change as she moved to sit across from him, thankful for the warmth of the fire and the emptiness of the common room.

"Understandable, I suppose," Draco commented casually with a wave of his arm. "Are you realizing that, perhaps, I was right?"

"Does it matter?" Max huffed. "My opinion will not change the one you hold of yourself."

"True," Draco agreed with a smirk. "I was just wondering how your first day as a Gryffindor went."

"It was interesting, to say the least," Max mused, thinking back on her day. It was easier to keep a straight head around Draco, a familiar friend and alibi. It felt as if a weight was being released from her shoulders, the cool Slytherin room favorable to the hot ways of the Gryffindor.

"Did it go well, then?"

"Yes," Max told him without a second thought. All things considered, the day had gone well. She did not expect perfection, after all, and would be a fool to think that things would go smoothly her first day. "Everything went exactly as it was expected."

"As opposed to yesterday," Draco snorted, his gaze steady and judging as if he was just seeing Max for the first time. They'd head a simple trust built up, and until yesterday Draco had thought it to be unbreakable. It was irrational of him to think so, though. Just because, of all the seventh year Slytherins, Max was the most rash, the most _mature,_ it did not mean they would react flawlessly with each other.

For while Max was one of the only girls Draco could be with without wanting to slit his throat, she was also the most hot headed, her ways unpredictable and precarious. He supposed that was half her charm, though. The way she moved with just posture and ease, never once letting on what was going on that brain of hers, hidden by dark waves of pitch black hair.

_"Please,"_ Max groaned, rolling her eyes. "Do not tell me you are going to throw a fit over yesterday."

"Was it not you, Max, that berated me for hours on the importance of _sticking to the plan?"_ Draco demanded, narrowing his eyes. Max rolled her eyes once more, shrugging lightly.

"Yes," she admitted. "Because I knew you were opposed to this plan and I feared you might change your mind mid-break-up," she paused, taking a moment to gauge his reaction. Draco stayed silent, urging Max to continue. "I, however, have been fully devoted from the very beginning. So what if I messed up a few lines? I got carried away. It doesn't matter now, the result being the same as it would have been."

Draco stared at Max for a moment, sizing her up. There was the echo of a smile on her face, a rare occurrence for any Slytherin. Her voice reeked of such an innocence-an honestly, all most-that sent chills up and down Draco's spine. Max Connors was not known for being honest and such an open statement filled his mind with doubt.

Had he always been this dubious of his girlfriend? Had he really been, before now, daft enough not to realize all the sinister truths that lay hidden behind the very well crafted Connors façade? Or was Draco simply being paranoid, letting Potter's annoying comments getting to him. If anything, Draco wasn't about to be outsmarted by Potter.

"But it isn't just that, Max," Draco muttered, abruptly standing up. He frowned, wondering exactly how he was to put into words the way Max acted that morning in the Great Hall.

"Then what is it, Draco?" she questioned, sounding concerned. She followed his lead in standing, placing a gentle hand on his arms. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes, licking her lips nervously.

_"I know you're hiding something." _

Max's breathe hitched, her hand falling away from Draco's body and laying limply at her side. Her eyes widened, staring at him in utter shock. Her teeth gritted together, her jaw moving fiercely as the wheels in her brain turned, the tables changing on her once more.

"That's ridiculous. Why would I hide something from my own side?" she bluffed with a laugh, quickly covering up her moment of weakness with a haughty attitude and arrogant smirk.

"That's the thing," Draco started slowly. "I'm not so certain you're on this side, anymore…"

"Shut up," Max snapped, shaking her head. Her blood boiled in anger, or maybe something short of defense. Her heart jolted in fear, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"Defensive, aren't we?" Draco teased, the famous Malfoy smirk appearing on his face. Max glared at him, violently shoving up the sleeve of her robe.

"Is this not proof enough for you?" she shrieked.

"It isn't for Potter, why should it be for me?"

"What do you mean?" Max questioned, shaking her head. She dropped her arm once more, tight lines of worry appearing on her brow.

_"I mean,"_ Draco elucidated. "That Potter's seen the mark, hasn't he?"

"Before, though. I've explained," Max fibbed. She'd forgotten, surprisingly, about the green mark that burned on her arm. She'd been an idiot before, showing him, but they had never talked about it in detail before. It was almost as if it was understood that she wasn't a true Death Eater, so they slipped over the subject.

"And he's so easily granted you undying trust?" Draco snorted. Max frowned, glowering at her boyfriend. How did she find herself in such deep water? Hadn't she been almost completely honest with Draco about everything? He understood why she was doing this and had supported her in following the Dark Lord from the beginning.

Sure, he didn't know about Mallory or anything that came along with the girl of Max's past, but that was a petty secret. She wouldn't tell it, knowing it would just send Draco into fits of distrust and anger, but she'd been keeping this secret for so long it didn't much matter anymore. Lying about it, staying silent, was second nature by now.

"No," Max confessed slowly. "But-"

"But he's not going to tell you anything you need to know," Draco interrupted.

"You don't know that. It's only our second day of being publicly friends. It's just the beginning."

"Because," Draco drawled, taking a step towards Max. There was a silly grin on his face, the expression one got just as he was about to win an fight. "I had a little run-in with Potter last night."

Max froze, her eyes widening. Above all, Draco and Harry could _never_ speak. Max would allow arguing under her careful chaperoning, or even snide comments and evil looks when she wasn't around, but the moment they started speaking Max knew she was done for. Both boys were too hot headed, hated each other too much, to watch their words. Somebody would, inevitably, let something slip and then everything would be ruined.

If Draco found out just how deeply she was connected to Harry then he would no longer stand by her side so willingly. He'd abandon her and without her only alibi Max wasn't sure she could continue on with her mission. It was already a huge loss to have all of Slytherin house hate her, but if Draco left to she would weaken and crumble. Max was strong, but her head was already having trouble maintaining it all.

All the worse, if Harry found out about her arrangement with Voldemort than he would turn his back on her. Her worst fears would come true, her death being as predictable as the sun rising in the morning. Harry would torture her for her betrayal as would Voldemort for her failure. There was no way to win, no way to escape.

"Draco," Max started, a hesitant laugh in her voice. She calmed herself down quickly, desperate to pull her attitude off as casual. "I feed Harry all sorts of lies. And he hates you. If he's said anything….What makes you believe it's true?"

"Because he didn't tell me anything. Because he's a Gryffindor and Gryffindors don't lie. He's protecting you, _your secrets, _and I for one can't believe you would tell him something that you can't tell me."

"Please," Max pleaded, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice. "It's not true or, who's to say you don't already know?"

"Really? Then what is it?"

Max paused, choosing her words carefully.

"I don't know what he was thinking when you too spoke with each other. I can't vouch for what he says or does, especially when I'm not around," she paused, biting her lip. "In fact, I think it's best if the two of you pretend each other don't exist."

Draco laughed then, shaking his head. Blonde hair fell into his eyes, his features softening as he gazed upon Max Connors, finally taking her in. She was at wit's end, her nerves being sent into spasms and her features darkening from the constant shadows that hung over her. Once cool and composed, Max was now wild and desperate, already worn from all the lying. Placing a comforting hand on her face Draco smiled.

"You look terrible," he commented, pushing a strand of black behind her ear. "Dinner will be almost over and I suggest going to bed before Mercury and her newfound minions grace us with their presence," Draco paused, leaning in to place his lips softly to Max's. For a moment her heart lurched; they were out in the open and anybody could be spying on them-

Draco broke the kiss quickly though, giving Max a look that sent her into waves of déjà vu.

"But just so you know," he started once more, a serene look on his face. "Potter may be naïve enough to _ignore_ your little secrets and slip ups, blasted Gryffindor that he is, but I'm not going to just sit her and let you play around with me like I'm your voodoo doll. We're on the same side so you better start acting like it."

Max gazed at him in wry disbelief, suddenly overcome with a great deal of exhaustion and she wondered when everybody suddenly turned against her.

--

Max collapsed into her bed gratefully, letting her mind shut itself down as she closed her eyes. She was in dire need of a good night's rest, tired from all the work she'd done in the days previous with no sleep last night. Also, she hadn't known before, but it was quite tedious getting lectured about her loyalties.

At least Draco hadn't threatened her, though. Sure, she'd been kicked down a few notches, realizing that something lying didn't go as full proof as it was plan, but the secrets she kept from Draco were not deadly. He would be angry, but she would live.

"Oh _damn,"_ drawled a voice from behind Max. She swallowed, evening out her breath to give the illusion that she was asleep. They couldn't taunt her when she wasn't around to respond, and Max certainly didn't care much about what they said behind her backs. They'd been trash talking each other for years now, the nasty words coming easy and without much thought.

"I can't believe she has the nerve to come back," snorted Pansy, and as Max listened she could hear the steps of the girl coming closer to the bed in which Max lay.

"Where else does she have to go?" Mercedes commented, her voice less timid and shy then Max remembered.

"I don't know, it seems to me like she'd be bunking with Potter," Mercury teased. Max heard the thump of the girls throwing down their book bags and then the squish of somebody sitting down on a bed. Max squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to shut out the annoying voices of her former friends.

"Please," Pansy scoffed. "Potter is far too righteous to do anything with her."

"Poor girl," Mercury pouted, her voice dripping with the sound of sickenly sweet sarcasm. "After being Draco's slut she's going to be pretty bored with Potter."

"Still surprised he wouldn't offer her the couch or something," Mercedes mused.

"Just because their fearless boy leader has offered his hand to our dear Max does not mean the rest of the Gryffindorks will," Mercury informed her two friends. Max could almost hear the roll of her eyes and the smirk that rested on her lips. Max would have smirked herself at their teasing, had they not been directed at herself. If she wasn't so scared of what they would do to her. Max knew she was a talented witch, but she was not stupid enough to fight three to one.

"It's a pity she's asleep," Pansy droned on. "I would have liked to hear what she'd have to say for herself."

"Then wake her up, Pans," Mercury suggested. Max stifled a groan, grunting as she felt Pansy's hand shove her mercilessly. She rolled over then, using her hair as a shield so she wouldn't have to face the wrath of the Slytherin seventh years.

"Piss off," she muttered, trying to sound sleepy.

"Excuse me?" Mercury jeered. "This is our dorm. It's you who should 'piss off."

"I have just as much right to be here as you," Max cooed, sitting up in her bed. She narrowed her eyes, pleased to find that her stony glare had not lessened in effect. They girls still stumbled back a step, surprised at the fierceness in which she looked at them.

"Slytherin does not accept traitors," Mercedes snapped, eyebrow raised in challenge.

_"Slytherin_ is not run by three petty teenagers. I was sorted into this house just as you and I have as every right to be here as you three."

"That's bullocks, Connors," Mercury laughed. "Don't pretend the tables haven't changed now that you've been thrown off your high horse."

"Have they?" Max questioned eerily, the tone in her voice icy and deliberant. It was strangely easy to fall back in her place in the Slytherin house, despite her betrayals. She'd thought it would be difficult not to be trampled by the three girls she once called friends, but they were just as petty and ignorant as before. Just because Max had left them to rule did not add cleverness or wit to their brains.

"Of course they have," Pansy sniffed, perturbed. Max smirked.

"Alright, if that's what you want to believe."

"What are you going on about?" Mercury demanded. Max exhaled, her eyes darting back and forth randomly. She let the moment play out, taking in the anxious silence that had overcome the room. It was sickening the way Max gained her power back, sucking it out of them. It was never theirs in the first place, after all. Max had always been the Queen; just because she left her throne did not mean she couldn't snatch back the echoes of her royalty.

"Sure, I may not be _Queen of Slytherin_-Oh, close your mouth Pansy; I know what you all call me behind my back-but that doesn't mean you three can take my place. If there were ever such a thing as a _ruler over the house_ it would be Draco, somebody none of you have managed to snatch up yet, even after seventh years of chasing him. So don't think for a minute you'll be able to gain the sort of control I had.

"And don't think for a minute that the tables have turned. If not Slytherin's Queen than Gryffindor's princess. Have any of you taken a moment to notice that I've got the fucking Boy-Who-Lived-And-Has-Half-The-World-Falling-On-Its-Feet-In-His-Prescence on my side? Good or bad, all the attention is still on me," Max finished with a smirk, feeling a million times better than she had before. Sure, half of the stuff she'd said she'd pulled out of her ass, but she'd made it sound believable, hadn't she?

All in all, her drawls were fairly true. She'd snatched control of the situation with ease and while she certainly wasn't as much the center of attention as she made herself sound it was enough to please the seventh year Slytherins and that was good enough for her. At the very least it would keep them off her backs for a week or so.

"Oh? You sound so confident," Mercury snorted. Max raised an eyebrow, familiar with the tactic of quarrelling. This was familiar ground for Max, a step up from the strange paths she'd been walking with Harry. While fighting with her former friends made her slightly sick-the lies coming so easily, the obnoxious attitude she'd grown to hate in herself-it felt incredibly good to know what she was doing again. There were upsides to each side of the war, Max decided. It made it almost impossible to choose which side she liked better.

Anyway, it didn't matter whether Max liked Harry or Slytherins better, because she'd already chosen her sides. Max was a Slytherin and a Death Eater, a damn good one at that, especially after recent events. Just because she enjoyed the company and kindness of Harry Potter didn't mean she was going to _officially_ hop the line and join his side.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Because I don't think the Dark Lord _or_ your father will be pleased to learn who you're spending your time with now, traitor," Mercury accused, spitting out the last word like dirt.

Max frowned, wishing there was an accurate retort to that. She supposed she should have acted from afraid for herself, for the sake of acting, but it really was quite difficult. She was too happy with the turnout of things to even pretend to be afraid.

That was the beauty of this whole arrangement, after all. She got to spend easy time with Harry, an old friend, and better yet she was doing it for the approval of Lord Voldemort and Nate Connors, two of the most important people in Max's life. After they did get wind of what happened in the Great Hall two days ago they be proud of her! There was nothing to be afraid of, but instead everything to gain, despite Mercury's accusations.

"I'll deal with that when the time comes," Max stated with a shrug. Mercury narrowed her eyes, angered with the nonchalance.

"Well, I for one, don't want to be caught hanging out with a traitor. Find a Gryffindor to shack up with, but leave us alone."

"Oh, please," Max sneered. "You're not going to get harangued for being in the same room as me. We're in the same house, we sleep in the same room, everyone knows that."

"Either way, get out. I don't want to be associated with you," Mercury demanded, pulling out her wand. Pansy and Mercedes followed suite, brandishing their weapons with pride. Max stared at them angrily, gritting her teeth. Where was she supposed to go? She obviously couldn't stay here, not being stupid enough to be in the same room as three angry girls with wands.

"Fine," she snapped, gathered her things. "For tonight, you can have the room, but I'm going to McGonagall if you aren't better behaved by tomorrow. We don't have to talk or look at each other, but I'm not giving up my bed for you."

"Oh? And you think McGonagall will help you?"

"She may not like me, but she's fair. And plus, that' what Potter's for. You'd be surprised the _benefits _you can get out of switching sides," Max finished before she stormed out of the room.

With a sigh Max settled on the couch in the common room, figured it was as good of a place to sleep as any. She'd be sure to wake up early in the morning and get out before anybody too menacing came down. She knew nobody, not even Draco, would be able to protect her from any unwanted hexes that might come her way.

Max really wasn't as confident as she sounded upstairs though. She really didn't know what she was going to do about her hostile roommates, but perhaps Harry had some ideas. She had been so anxious to be rid of him before, but she was finding she missed the compassion that radiated off every inch of his body. He showed her such care and gentleness that not even Draco had given to her, especially now that he was so distracted by Max's alleged lies.

Harry truly was the only one that showed any concern for her now. Draco may be her only alibi, but there was a coldness and a doubting that had wedged itself between them. For Harry, despite his concerns about where her loyalties lie, he would forever be on her side, her protector and friend. As long as she kept her secrets, she would have him to go to whenever she needed. Her insecurities, dangerous in the hands of others, were safe in his arms, any embarrassments not needed when sharing her heart.

For while Max lied to Harry Potter more than anybody else before, she was also the most honest with him. And that was a bit of a disturbing thought.

Max shook her head, settling into the couch and closing her eyes, images of comforting green eyes behind spectacles and encouraging smiles and open arms becoming the star of her dreams. She fell asleep to the echoes friendship, forgetting all previous hardships and worries as she fell into unconsciousness.

Perhaps it was possible, that by tomorrow, not everybody had to be against her.


	40. Do You Remember

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**Disclaimer:**Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N: **Here, after forever it seems, is the 40 chapter! I'm afraid it might not be up to par, written over about a week and all. However, I still hope you like it anyway.

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Max struggled to keep her eyes open, trying hard not to faze out and keep her focus on the topic at hand. It was difficult, though, with her brain swimming in nothingness and her eyes begging for rest. She made an effort to keep herself awake by focusing on a small ladybug crawling around in the grass, but this hindered her hearing. On so little sleep multi-tasking was not a task Max was most talented at.

"Max? Are you even listening to me?" Harry questioned, a child's whine seeping through his voice. Max shook her head, letting her messy black hair sweep across her face. She'd pulled it up that morning in an effort to get ready quickly, but it didn't really help. She hadn't bothered with any other prepping that morning, either.

"Sorry," she mumbled, turning her eyes to Harry's. "I'm just tired."

"Why?" he asked with genuine curiosity. Max didn't smile at his oblivion, but instead turned her attention to the small bug. Casually, she placed her finger on the blade of grass it was crawling on and allowed its little legs to travel up her slim finger and onto her palm. She turned back to Harry then, letting her hand open venerably as she showed him her find.

"I didn't get much sleep last night and then ended up waking at the crack of dawn anyway."

"Why?" Harry repeated, placing his fingers gently against Max's. They both stared at the ladybug, momentarily memorized by its simplicity and beauty. There was an intimacy to Harry's touch, though, one Max felt strongly and clearly.

"I got kicked out of my room and ended up on the couch. I didn't want to be around if anybody woke up early so I just…" she trailed off, not bothering with the details. Harry was smart enough, she hoped, to put the pieces together. It was true that her lack of sleep was caused by anxiousness over her peers, but she could always intensify that feeling in order to drag Harry deeper into her victim façade.

As long as Max could get Harry to believe she was helpless and week she would be fine. It was a certain hit at her pride to pretend to be a damsel, but if that was what Gryffindors went for then she'd do whatever it took. Max knew she was strong, though, and she new she was smart and brave. Perhaps even Draco knew that, though he'd never say something so complimenting aloud. Or at least not in so many words.

"Sorry," Harry apologized, wincing. "It sucks that it has to be like that."

"Yes," Max agreed, nodding lightly. She took Harry's hand and flipped it over, placing the ladybug on his own palm with her other finger. He smiled with gratitude, pleasured by the tickles the little bugs feet made on his skin. Max brushed her hands together, placing them delicately in her lap.

"What happened?" Harry questioned. His hair ruffled in the wind, his glasses askew and near falling off. Max always wondered why the boy had been so careless about his appearance. Ever since she'd met him he always looked like he'd rolled out of bed and crawled to school on his knees. His hair was never combed, his face rarely clean, and his clothes always a bit tattered and dirty, grass stains on his knees.

At first Max simply assumed it was because of his Aunt and Uncle, never bothering to give him the proper necessities it took to look presentable. She was led to believe that once he realized he had money and moved into Hogwarts he style would greatly improve. Yet, somehow, he still managed to look unkempt in his robes.

Never before had Max found this to be attractive. She liked the way Slytherins wore their clothes, green ties and tucked in shirts. Harry and his friends were lazy with their accessories, though, shirts always half untucked, trousers wrinkly and sometimes unzipped, collars popped, and ties undone and hanging loosely around their necks. It was a disgrace upon Hogwarts to see students with such a lack of etiquette.

However, as they lounged lazily on the grounds Max couldn't help but notice the handsome features of the Gryffindor. She watched him carefully, his slow movements careful and precise, his natural beauty shining through stronger up close. Max had always kept herself carefully pampered, but she could now see the splendor of not caring about what one looked like. She wondered what that felt like. Max had always cared about what others thought of her, and because of it she was always painfully aware of herself. It was endearing to see somebody who wasn't like that.

"They woke me up just to spite me. We spat a few nasty words at each other before I finally pulled some shit out of my ass and left."

"Oh?" Harry snickered. Max narrowed her eyes, slapping his arm playfully. "What sort of stuff?"

"Don't laugh at me," Max snapped. "Just some nonsense about all the teachers liking me now that I'm on your side. Protector of the world and all that."

"Touché."

Max laughed with Harry, noticing the way his eyes shimmered with happiness in ways that Max had long ago forgotten. She sighed deeply, pondering whimsically the same question she'd been thinking for weeks now.

What if?

What if she had followed her heart all those years ago, let her barriers down, and gotten herself sorted into Gryffindor. What if she'd disobeyed her father and stayed by Harry's side, choosing friendship over glory. What if she'd avoided getting her dark mark until after school or told Voldemort she'd failed the mission that Christmas.

Would she still be alive if she'd done those things? Was it even possible for her to live through this war? Sometimes it felt as if Max was just buying time, wasting away until finally her lies caught up with her. Sure, Max was clever enough to know what to say to keep her alive, to get on the good side of those she needed to be with, but how long could that really last? If fate wanted her dead then she would die.

Longingly, Max stared at Harry once more, biting her lip. She deliberated for a moment, grinning up at the boy before finally pulling the rubber band out of her hair. She shook her head with a laugh, loosening her tie and kicking off her shoes. She even went as far as to untuck her shirt from her skirt, lazily leaning back against her hands. She didn't even care if she got them dirty.

"What are you doing?" Harry questioned, eyes alit with amusement. Max shrugged, running a hand through her hair.

"Letting go. We're not in class; why should I have to look my best?"

"You shouldn't," Harry started slowly. "But you do anyway."

"Well today I don't."

"Why?" Harry asked. Max groaned loudly, rolling her eyes. 'Why' was Harry's favorite question. He was always so blunt about it as well. Max would say something he didn't understand-it happened quite often, actually-and he'd just come right out and ask about it. Perhaps Max shouldn't think so deeply into it, but she couldn't help but notice the candid way he spoke. For somebody who was supposed to not fully trust her and keep his secrets from the 'other side' Harry sure did speak before thinking a lot.

It wasn't just that, though. It was the fact that he seemed genuinely interested. He wanted to understand what went through Max's head, not to figure her out and see through to her plans, but because he wanted to know _her._ He was determined to get their friendship up to par, and he did so with forceful efforts and pressing questions.

Stranger, even, was the fact that Max answered all of them.

"I wanted to see what it felt like to be a Gryffindor."

"And you think all it took was loosening your tie and unbuttoning your shirt?"

"I'm not a slag, Harry," Max snapped, frowning. "You all just seem so care free with how you dress. Slytherins are always so pompous and perfect, I decided that I should embrace the imperfections and other such noble Gryffindor acts."

"Well, I like it," Harry declared, bearing his teeth. Max actually giggled, nudging him in the side.

"You would."

"No, really," Harry pressed. He took a lock of Max's wavy hair, letting the tendrils fall through his fingertips like black water. He examined it closely for a moment, distracted, before continuing. "It reminds me of Mallory."

Max averted her eyes, taking immediate interest in a blade of grass, carefully plucking it and peeling away at the segments. As a child, Max had gotten in the habit of picking grass constantly whenever it was around. During recess in her muggle school the teachers were always watching her, telling her that she was ruining nature to please stop it now.

Max never could break the habit, though, and because of it there were many little holes of dirty in her home. She'd spent most of her time outside, after all, not wanting to face whatever chores her father might have to offer. She thought she was so clever, hiding in the outdoors and bushes that looked larger than life at the time. She didn't realize until later, after she entered Hogwarts, that it wasn't that her father couldn't find her; it was that he didn't try.

"Do you remember?" Harry suddenly asked, breaking the awkward air that had settled around them.

"Remember what?"

"Our music."

Max smiled, neglecting her now shredded piece of grass and searching through the ground for another one. It didn't take her long to find it, and when she turned back to Harry he was holding a similar looking blade. They laughed, sharing a secret grin, before placing the blade to each other's lips.

Harry whistled with perfected excellence, while it took Max a few tries to get it right. She hadn't done _this_ since school started. To be honest, even as she got older her and Harry had stopped this hobby. They had grown up a bit, together, she supposed.

"I can't believe you remember that," Max snickered, her face scrunched up in amusement. Her stomach rolled with laugher, her hand clutching her chest with glee.

"I can't believe I can still do it," Harry confessed sheepishly. "That was so long ago."

Max didn't respond, choosing to awkwardly twiddle her thumbs in the sunlight. The day was warming up, surprisingly, and slowly her peers were beginning to exist the castle and enjoy a sunny day on the grounds. Evidently, Harry and her weren't the only ones with smart ideas anymore.

Max could see the people staring at her, though. Everybody knew about the tragic break-up between the Slytherin royalty, and then how Max Connors, alleged Death Eater, ditched her Slytherins friends for Harry Potter. Younger Slytherins stared in awe and wonder, amazed and disgusted by her choices, while everybody from other houses pretended not to care.

It was obvious everybody was curious, though. Never before had something like this happened. Sure, there were friendships between houses, but not between Gryffindors and Slytherins. Not between Max and Harry. Max wondered if it was dangerous to be seen so clearly with him out in the open. As students pasted they snuck obvious glances at the couple, trying to be discreet as they sized up the situation.

"Ignore them," Harry mumbled angrily, shooting glares in a fifth years way. She turned back to her friends quickly, speeding off towards a group of boys.

"Right," Max snorted. "I'll get right on that."

"I mean it," Harry encouraged. "I've taken shit like this my whole life; it does get easier. Just pretend we're the only ones out here."

Max considered this for a moment, debating whether or not she should give in to his ideas. Sure, Max was excellent at pretending, but this seemed a bit different then what she was used to. Suddenly, she'd been sucked into silly school rumors and drama, like a thirteen year old drama queen. Max scowled at the thought; she didn't like feeling so petty.

"Where are your friends?" Max questioned in an attempt to change the subject.

"I think they're still warming up to you," Harry admitted. He looked embarrassed as he stared at the ground.

"That's alright," Max sighed. "I didn't expect us to be best friends."

"Do you ever think you will be?"

"Honestly?" Max shrugged. "Not really."

"Why?"

Max grumbled; there he went asking that question again. It was difficult being so honest, so suddenly, but somehow Harry had his ways of easing her out of her comfort zone. She was a different person around Harry, a better, smarter person.

"Slytherins and Gryffindors aren't friends for a reason."

"We're friends," Harry argued. Max smirked.

"There is an exception to every rule, Harry."

"Well what's the difference between me and them?"

"Does there have to be a difference, a reason? Haven't you ever not liked somebody just for the sake of not liking them? There never is an explanation."

Harry stared at her in confusion, his eyes wide with wonder. He ran a hand through his hair, grumpily, letting Max's words soak in. He didn't think she made much sense, but then again, when did she? Max was a mystery to him, the more questions she answered the more were left out in the open.

Sometimes Harry wondered if she did it on purpose. She had an unnatural knack for thinking on her feet, always saying the write-and wrong-words in every situation. She never gave out too much information, never said the wrong thing, and was always so diligently carefully about her words. She made it seem almost effortless, though. Very rarely did she have to sit and contemplate what to say next. That was when Harry knew to pay extra close attention; the longer she waited the more important the sentence that came out of her mouth way.

"Do you miss her?" she blurted, a strange emotion flickering across her face. Harry was surprised at this, always shocked at how their conversations danced.

They never seemed to be able to stick to one subject, knowing that if the focus was kept on one thing too long too much would be said and everything would be ruined. Part of Harry knew that they were walking on thin ice, and one wrong move could shatter everything. So their conversations changed quickly, like leaves blowing in the wind.

"Who?"

"Mallory, I mean," Max clarified. Harry bit his lip, considering this for a moment. He was just now realizing what Max went when she said Mallory was a different person. That girl Harry knew in his childhood was long gone, being replaced by this strange, cold, Max.

At first, Harry thought that notion had been silly. There were the same body, the same mind, the same heart. He'd thought that somewhere behind Max's cold exterior there had to be his old friend, but now he knew the truth. Mallory had changed. There were traces of her left behind, but he'd long since gotten used to Max. He'd accepted that she was gone. He'd moved on. Yet, how come he couldn't say no honestly?

"Yes," Harry finally stated in defeat. "Do you?"

"Sometimes," Max answered without much thought. She didn't really need to think about this question, having pondered it so many times before.

"Could it be-" Harry cut off, stuttering. "I mean, do you think-?"

"No," Max interrupted, not being able to listen to him ramble any longer. "I'm still a Dea- A Slytherin."

"A Death Eater, you mean?" Harry spat, the words falling off his lips like venom. Max winced, wishing the subject hadn't been brought up.

"You knew that though, didn't you?" she jeered, scowling.

"I guess I never really thought about it…"

"Maybe you should start," Max suggested. "Even if I'm not proud about it, it is part of who I am."

"Tell me more," Harry pleaded, desperate to understand what could lead a person to make such a horrible choice.

"You know why I had to do it. I was confused and desperate. Plus, it's hard to deny the Dark Lord what he wants."

"Why does he want you?" Harry interjected, his eyebrows furrowing. Max frowned, not willing to answer this question. She had a faint idea why she'd been chosen for the honorable position-that being that she could penetrate Harry's walls-but part of her knew there had to be more. Voldemort knew something she didn't and wanted her for it.

"Honestly, I don't know. I'm nothing special in his eyes, really. If he wanted something done he has other followers."

"Does he know about us yet?" Harry inquired.

"Probably," Max shrugged. "But I'm not concerned," she said honestly. She knew he would be happy about her breakthrough, not angered like everybody else assumed. That was probably the most difficult part about the whole plan. Max was afraid of a lot of things, but right now Voldemort wasn't one of them. She assumed he would be pleased with how she was coming along.

"Are you mental?" Harry cried, shaking his head. Max laughed.

"No. I mean, eventually it's something I'll have to think about but he can't hurt me here."

"You say that," Harry said darkly, his expression becoming dark.

"I do!" Max exclaimed. "I've broken away from him and everybody knows it. But after the school year ends what reason do I have to associate with any of them?"

"Everything," Harry muttered. "If they want you."

"And why would they?"

"You haven't noticed?" Harry exclaimed, sounding surprised. Max looked at him in confusion, her eyebrows knit together.

"No," Max breathed. "What is it?"

"It's you!" Harry cried, placing an arm on her shoulder. He rubbed his fingers lightly on her skin, the fabric of her cloak slipping easily through his fingers. His hand slid down her arm, not stopping as it reached the bare skin of her hand. With ease he flipped it over, tracing the facets of her palm. "It's you," he repeated.

Max stared at their hands breathlessly. Her heart beat faster, the moment dragging on. How could Harry have this power over her? He made her feel dizzy, but free. In simple movements and quiet words he made her feel like she was the only important person in the world.

"Me," she echoed, looking up to stare him right in the eye.

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "I don't know what it is about you, but you have power. There's something…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "When you get angry, or exited, you almost glow. I can _see_ the magic underrating on your skin. Voldemort-whether he knows it or not-wants you."

Max's jaw dropped in horror. Her skin prickled uncomfortably, her eyes glazing. His words weren't making sense, were traveling farther and deeper into a place where Max had never been, and for that matter, never intended to go.

"What are you saying?" she demanded, growing angry.

"You're different, Max," Harry pressed. "You've never been like us."

_"Like us?"_ Max hissed, hating the way he could make it sound like a good thing. Harry spoke of admiration, but the words hit Max like they were dirty, creating a foul image of herself in her brain. "You mean I'm a freak."

"No!" Harry argued, shaking his head. "You aren't-I didn't mean-"

"I don't know what you're trying to go on about, Potter, but I'm normal. You're the one with a scar."

Harry glared, his emerald eyes turning a dark green. Max breathed in deeply, letting all her focus land on his face. She challenged him, her jaw set stubbornly in anger. A wind blew past, sending chills down Max's spine. The unfamiliar prickling feeling came back again, her wand hand shaking subtly.

"You're the one with a dark mark," he countered with a smirk. Max jumped to her feet then, eyes alit.

_"Shut up." _

"Look at yourself!" Harry yelled, pointing. Max looked down in impulse only to see the same body she'd always had. Sure, her skin had changed a few shades from anger, and her hair was billowing in the wind, but other than that nothing else was different.

"And?"

"Look at the trees," Harry commented, pointing towards a nearby tree.

"Harry I'm not a tree."

"They're still, don't you see? The trees don't move but your hair does and your skin glows but…"

Max stared at him blankly, blinking as she tried to comprehend what he was saying. She gazed once again at the tree, surprised to see that there was no wind rustling its leaves. However, she could still feel the fading breeze that went through her hair, billowed her cloaks.

Maybe her skin did change color when she got angry, but didn't everybody's? The blood flowed differently when she clenched her fists and Max was sure there was some scientific explanation. Nothing strange was going on.

But as she turned back to Harry, facing the helpless, but determined, look in his eyes Max wasn't so sure.

Her breathe caught in her throat, anger bubbling inside of as clarity hit.

"What…" she mumbled, trailing off.

"Max," Harry started, reaching out. She flinched away, though, hiding her face with her hair. She suddenly felt dirty, like some sort of dangerously contagious plague had touched her.

"When did you notice this?" she demanded, glaring.

"The day you broke up with Malfoy."

Max stumbled back, surprised. She'd never doubted that that day had been a changing point, meaning so much more to her than any other day. It stuck out like a sore thumb, a day she always kept in the back of her mind. She'd always thought of it has a beginning, a new start, like taking a shower after living in sin for a week. It was a breakthrough, metaphorically. It spoke wonders of the person she was, who she was becoming, who she was leaving behind. It had redefined her relationships, her person, her whole being.

"I have to go," Max said breathlessly, turning on her heel to run. She didn't look back to Harry, letting the confusion and loss engulf her. Her eyes clouded over as she headed towards the Slytherin tower, words and questions running through her brain. Perhaps she was overreacting; maybe Harry and her had just gotten the wrong idea, but Max couldn't take any chances. She had to know the truth, whatever it was, especially if it meant that something was different about her.

Especially since Harry noticed on the day she'd broken up with Malfoy.

Because surely she'd known that that day had been important, defining.

But never had she imagined it could have been something more.


	41. Wake Up Call

**Disclaimer:** Potterverse belongs to Rowling

**A/N: **Wow. This turned out to be a lot less cool than I planned...

* * *

Max Connors sat in front of the fire, clutching her cloak to her body. The flames reflected off her wide eyes, her nose defrosting slowly in the heat. She'd found herself spending most of her free time outside on the grounds, despite the cold. It was too dangerous to be caught in the Slytherin common room and the corridors weren't half as inspiring as the great outdoors. Plus, it was always a good idea to stray away from people, especially in the state Max was in.

She also found herself losing sleep, staying in the common room for as long as possible and then waking early to leave before her roommates got up. She'd been able to fight them at first, been able to stand up for herself, but now she was left helpless. This was not a battle Max wanted. She didn't much care what people thought about her anymore and would rather that just leave her alone. She didn't care what they said when she wasn't around, as long as she got her peace.

Days with Harry were also becoming restless. She was a fool to think things would get easy now. While Harry made certain he stood beside her, protecting her, he also struggled to maintain a good relationship with his friends. He'd confessed to her often about how guilty he felt, as if he'd betrayed them.

Of course, this didn't make Max feel any better. What would happen if the guilt got too hard to manage? She knew he'd choose Granger and Weasley over her any day. He promised her nothing would change, though. He admitted that he was drifting from them before Max, though she wasn't sure if she believed him.

It was obvious now that in order to stay friends with Harry Max would have to befriend his friends. This sent a little wave of disgust and dread through her, having never wanted to be a part of that group. It was a price she had to pay, though, if she ever expected her plans to go well.

Sacrifice was a word Max had never quite known the meaning up until now. She'd led her life how she wanted to live it, never quite doing anything for anybody but herself. Now, with so many people to please, Max found herself thinking of everybody else first in order to keep things best for herself. It was a hard line to walk on, balancing between selfishness and selflessness.

The fire cracked, startling Max, and she jumped back, scooting further away from the dangerous heat. She was fully warm again, the feelings returning in her fingers and toes. She crawled over to the green Slytherin couch, piling up the homework she'd just finished.

That was, she supposed, another good thing about the life she'd created for herself. Max had already begun thinking of life after Hogwarts, a time she knew would be much better than the one she was living in. She'd begun focusing more on her studies and actually getting good grades now that she had the time to do her homework. It brought a bright light in the horizon, the ability to break free from her stupid Slytherin pureblood ways becoming more and more easy. Perhaps, after the war and school, she'd move away from England and get a good job in Eastern Europe. She'd heard it was nice in Italy.

Perhaps this was half the reason the amount of purebloods was dwindling. The more time passed the more often heirs moved away, creating a life for themselves elsewhere. England was just not worth the trouble living in, especially now the prejudices had grown to an extreme high.

"Max," came a voice from behind, one that the raven haired girl instantly recognized. She turned slowly to face Draco, idly wondering where they stood. The time spent without Draco seemed to vast, so long, that she could hardly remember the last time they'd spoken. Had that been a fight? Were grudges still being held? Max couldn't really remember.

"What are you doing?" she questioned him, finally decided to break the awkward tension that hung in the room. His eyebrows raised, surprised that there was no bite to her words. He knew they were drifting, knew they would be drifting from the moment she presented the idea of separation to him. He just couldn't keep her when she was pretending to be somebody she wasn't. Especially if he couldn't be sure she was pretending or not.

"I wanted to see you," Draco confessed. "We haven't really hung out in a while."

"I know," Max agreed, her lips turning upward in a smile. Her eyes were alit with happiness that he understand, that she wasn't the only one feeling the way she did. "The days seem so long, time passes slow."

"Nothing's changed for me, Max," Draco whispered, sitting down beside her. She hesitantly linked hangs with him, his palm warm and sweaty against her own.

"Everything's changed, Draco," she responded, shaking her head. "Everything."

"For you, yes," Draco mused. "But for the rest of us? I can't say the same."

"What? So it doesn't make a difference whether you have your girlfriend around or not?"

"Oh, Connors," Draco drawled, his lips forming the familiar trademark smirk. "We broke up, or have you forgotten."

"Shut up, jackass," she huffed, shoving him with all the effort she could muster.

"You've certainly changed," Draco noted dryly, rolling his eyes. Max couldn't tell if he was being serious or sarcastic, so instead she settled for neither and responded appropriately.

"For better or for worse?"

Draco considered this for a moment, his mouth turning down in a frown. He gazed thoughtfully at the fire, staring at the shadow of he and his girlfriend on the ground. The flickering was making his eyes glaze over, his mind focused on something that was just a bit too far from reality.

"I don't know."

Max bit her lip, though she was not surprised by Draco's comment. She knew it was difficult for Draco to be with her when she was pretending like this. It was surprising, but even though they'd talked about this over and over Max still didn't know how things were with Draco. How much could she trust him with? How much could he handle?

"So where are we?" she questioned, breaking the silence. Draco laughed lightly.

"You really have been spending too much time with the Gryffindors. I can't believe you actually want to talk about our _relationship," _he snickered, the last word falling off his tongue like he was ashamed of saying it. Max shrugged, though she too remembered when such conversations were unneeded. Rarely did Slytherins every base their companionship on actual love, but rather what would best benefit their family or please their parents.

"I don't," Max protested, wrinkling her nose in displeasure. "I just want to know where we stand. Are we on the same side? Can I trust you?"

"Seems like we've had this conversation before, hmm?" Draco mused darkly, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't recall-"

"It would appear your having trouble getting your stories straight," Draco chuckled. Max furrowed her brow, confused by his accusations. She had, in fact, been very careful about storing information in her brain. She'd separated herself into files, placing things carefully so that no two stories would ever mix up or contradict each other in the wrong situation.

"You're being petty again. Stop acting like a schoolboy."

"I'm just saying that perhaps we should get the truth out. Trust is a key part in the game you're playing."

"That's why I wanted to talk, idiot," Max snapped, rolling her eyes. "But then you went off about Gryffindors-"

"Alright, fine. What is it you want to say?"

"I just want to know whether you're on my side or not. I'm not going to lie to you; things are going to be difficult. If you want to back out-"

"I don't," Draco interjected, the heat of the fire matching perfectly with the expression in his face. His eyes burned with emotion, something Max couldn't recognize, and there was a reasoning neither could understand.

"Then we'll just be the same as before. Except in private."

"I don't think I can do that either," Draco admitted, eyebrows knit in concentration. "The war-"

_"The war,"_ Max repeated. Draco shook his head, something breaking inside of him.

"You're no longer just a pawn in this game, Max. the Dark Lord has promoted you, for some ungodly reason giving you one of the highest jobs a death eater could ask for. You're more like a queen now."

Pride swelled up inside Max, a slow smile creeping on her face. She knew that when Draco spoke he didn't mean for it to sound so good, but she couldn't help herself. The thought of being a queen, especially in something as important as this, sent waves of pleasure through her body. She was _important._ She was _needed. _That, in itself, was a relief. If she really meant this much to the war than surely Voldemort could not kill her off as easily as she imagined.

"I can handle it," Max announced, leaving no room for argument.

"As long as you understand," Draco sighed in defeat. Max raised an eyebrow at him.

"Why do you always assume I don't understand, Draco?" she cooed. "Perhaps I understand a bit better than you do."

"I doubt it," Draco snorted. "If you had any idea you'd be shaking with fear."

"Perhaps I'm just stronger than you."

"Doubtful," Draco said. "But back to the matter at hand," he paused, winking before turning serious. "I don't want to play a big part in this."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't want to be on the wrong side-the wrong place. I make one wrong move concerning you and everything goes to pieces. I will not be a part of that. I will not risk anything."

"Then what do you want, Malfoy?" Max demanded, becoming annoyed. Why couldn't the damn boy just make up his mind?

Draco stared at Max for a moment, an intensity so strong in his eyes that Max's train of thought changed completely. The mood had shifted, passion settling in the guts of both the teenagers, stomachs shifting with butterflies. Draco hesitated only briefly as he brought a hand to her cheek, bringing her slowly closer with his finger.

"You," he whispered in her ear, the breath pleasuring her all the way to her toes. She captured his lips then, wrapping her arms around him and shifting her body so that it pressed against his. She nipped and sucked on his lips, tongues dancing together like they had so many times before.

His hand traced patterns all over her body, feelings her curves and dancing at the edges of her clothes. He teased her mercilessly, only breaking apart to nibble at her ear or gnaw at her neck. She clutched him closer, forgetting more a moment what they had just been discussing, or that her cover would be blown should anybody comes downstairs.

Nobody came, though, and the couple continued to kiss, continued to pretend, continued to ignore everything in their mind that screamed no.

--

Max woke up early the next morning, as usual, and quickly got dressed. She felt fresh and awake, comfortable with her surroundings. Though nothing had really been discussed, Max felt satisfied with her relationship with Draco. Clearly, it would never be perfect, could never be like it was before the fake break-up, but Max had accepted that and moved on. She could live with whatever changes came their way.

Besides, Max knew how to play her cards. Even if the hand she was given was not the best, she knew how to manipulate the game so that she'd end up winning. It also just so happened the Max _had_ been given all the perfect cards. She'd created a perfect spider's webbed, built up and out and created a masterpiece.

Her life was difficult, as was a spiders. Often a human or animal would ruin the web of a spider and so often would pieces of Max's life break and fall apart. However, both spider and Slytherin could easily rebuild the web and return to a place of satisfaction. Currently, Max was strong, ready to catch whatever prey might come her way.

It turned out that was exactly what Max was doing that morning. She was preparing her web, her mind, to capture the most difficult pretty she had come across so far. It would take an immense amount of skill and patience, diligence and awareness. There was no room for slip ups that morning. Max had to bottle perfection and then perfectly execute it.

Max had seen the obstacle, recognized it in the plan day, and was now prepared to take it out. Today Max would conquer.

Today Max planned to capture the hearts of Harry's friends, and if she was being ambitious, the Gryffindor house in general.

Of course, Max had to approach this very carefully. She couldn't just prance in, sit down next to Hermione and Ron, and then go about as if everything was peachy. She also couldn't avoid Harry in the process either. That was why she had to get up so early that morning. If Harry walked in and saw her trying to befriend the stupid Gryffindors than he would surely realize she was serious about him.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, catching her by the arm in the early morning. Max smiled at him, eyes scanning the room before placing a small kiss on his lips.

"Got some Gryffindors to capture," she said casually, her eyes rolling. A flicker of disappointment showed in Draco's face, but he composed himself easily.

"Why?"

"Apparently Harry's a package deal," Max stated dryly. "I'm not stupid enough to try and tear him away from his friends."

"Well you best be off then," Draco muttered, seeming a bit sad. Max smiled encouragingly.

"Be nice."

"You really are becoming a Gryffindor, Connors."

Max shrugged, spinning on her heal and heading towards the Great Hall. She paused in front of the doors, examining her prey carefully.

Then, like a true Gryffindor Lion, Max pounced.


	42. Great Indoors

**Disclaimer: **Potterverse belongs to Rowling

...

Max examined the Gryffindor table very carefully before taking her first step. She kept a warm smile on her face as she watched, careful to mask any hostility she may feel. Her eyes scanned the table, picking through each head until she found the one she wanted. As soon as the target was identified Max strode towards him, her steps quick and uneven until she finally fell into place at his side.

At first, the boy didn't notice her. His head was in a book, something about Herbology, and his face was wrinkled in concentration. He was absently picking at the food on his plate, though it was clear he'd finished it a while ago. There was light chatter going on around him between some sixth year girls and other seventh year boys. Max didn't bother to know their names, despite the fact that they were sending less than inconspicuous glances in her direction.

She wasn't stupid enough to tackle more than one lion at once. She'd started off with the king, and now she was going to move to the bottom and work her way up. It shouldn't be too difficult, all things considered. All it required was some careful learned politeness. The boy, after all, had never been known for his bravery or his wit. In fact, Max often heard Draco speaking ill of this boy's pathetic life, though Max herself never paid much attention to it.

"Good morning," she greeted, placing a bagel on her plate. The boy fumbled with his book, only just managing to prevent it from falling into his eggs. He turned to look up at her in shock, fear written plainly on his face. Max smiled at him, keeping her mouth shut and letting him be the first to speak.

"G-Goo…Morning," he stuttered. Max sighed.

"I'm afraid we haven't formally met before. My name is Max," she said, offering him a slender hand to shake. He gulped loudly, lifting his own hand in return.

"Neville."

"It's nice to meet you," Max stated with nonchalance, casually busying herself by spreading butter on her bagel. That same, welcoming smile was still on her face. It gave Max the sort of feeling like she was hostess, though she wasn't even at her own house's table.

"Where's Harry?" Neville questioned, eyeing the table for his friend. Max shrugged, not bothering to look for him. She knew he wasn't there yet.

"Probably sleeping, I'd imagine."

"You're never here before him," Neville pointed out, though Max could tell he regretted it by the look on his face. She took no notice, pretending that the conversation was completely normal and did not reek of tension and anxiety.

"You can't always follow Harry around, living in his shadow."

"I don't think you live in anybody's shadow, Max," Neville said, his voice sweet to Max's ears. She smirked with pleasure, wondering how hard it would be to make herself blush.

"Thank you, Neville."

Neville smiled, showing a row of awkwardly aligned teeth. He idly fiddled with the hem of his robe, still timid and nervous as ever. Max found it was reasonably easy to speak with Neville, though he wasn't one for in depth conversations. She applauded herself for choosing him first, as apposed to the other, more rough boys.

"Neville, what are you doing talking with her?" another Gryffindor shouted, speaking of rough boys. Max turned her eyes on him, narrowing them as she sized him up.

"I was just being polite," Neville defended, holding up his hands. He got this sick look about him, almost like he was going to throw up the food he'd just eaten. The sixth year girls turned their faces towards the slowly growing commotion.

"Boys, please," Max begged, desperate to cool down the heat. She did not start this for an argument. Harry would not appreciate her fighting and tearing things up in his house. The point was to make peace, not destroy it.

"Shut up, bitch," Ginny Weasley snarled, glaring. Max almost winced. Her plan was blowing up, especially now that the Weasel was involved. She would not take easily the loss of her boyfriend to another, though Max had never caused the break-up.

"Weasley, jealously isn't attractive. I just wanted to get to know some of the other Gryffindors. I wasn't aware that was a crime."

"And I'm sure that's just why you did it," the boy whose name she did not know sneered. She bit her lip to keep from snapping.

"Please-"

"Go back where you came from, Slytherin. Nobody wants you here."

Max didn't respond at first, turning to Neville for help. He did nothing, though, staring solemnly down at his near empty plate. Occasionally, he'd send longing looks towards the book he had been reading before, but for the most part he faded into the background.

"I'm sorry," Max huffed, standing up. "I just wanted to make acquaintances, if not friends. But I'm leaving now," she sighed while standing. Unfortunately, she did not make it very far for Ron was standing before you with an annoyed look on his face.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, looking up briefly to examine the faces of everyone else. The two Gryffindor strangers were glaring at her, though their expressions had softened if only slightly with Ron's arrival. Neville had opened up his book again and was now engaging himself in a good study hour. The sixth year girls, including Ginny, had continued their meaningless chatter, though a few still glanced Max's way whenever they could.

"Sorry," Max muttered, feigning innocence. "I'll just be going."

Ron did not oblige, however, and instead grabbed onto her arm with as much force as he could manage without feeling bad about hurting a girl. Max spun around to glare at him, yanking her arm away.

"You shouldn't be causing trouble," Ron ordered, ignoring her protests.

"I'm not," Max argued. "Trouble just happens to follow me."

Ron got a sort of smile on his face, a dreamy look in his eyes, though it did not last long. He stood tall as he stared at her, probably debating whether or not he could abuse her without Harry yelling at him.

"You would say that, wouldn't you?" he responded, crossing his arms. Max sighed, pleased to see that his hands would no longer be touching her. She mimicked his posture in a challenge. She didn't want to have to bother with befriending Ron. If she couldn't do it with strangers there was no way she could manage the furious red head.

"I'm not as evil as you think," Max informed him, a hint of arrogance in her voice. "Maybe I was just being friendly. Ever considered that I might not be the problem?"

"That," Ron snorted, pointing at her. "Is ridiculous. There was no problem before you, so why should we assume the problem lies with us?"

"Why should we assume there _is_ an us? Why do I have to be part of the them?"

"Because that's what _you_ chose," Ron said, shaking his head in disbelief. "We all know whose side you're really on. Harry _told_ us."

"Didn't he also tell you that he trusted me?" Max inquired, curious as to what Harry had mentioned about her. Was her security misplaced?

"Even Harry makes mistakes."

"So do Slytherins."

Ron opened his mouth, only to close it again in distraught. His face went through a few changes then, ranging from anger to confusion and back again. Max kept herself complacent, inhaling and exhaling on a strict rhythm.

"So what now?"

Max smiled, jumping at the opportunity. Ron was putting the ball in her court, so to speak. It wasn't a blatant surrender, but it was the closest she was going to get. Max wasn't stupid enough to think her and Ron could ever be friends. Just them speaking without arguing would cause drama throughout the school, not to mention how furious his sister would be.

"We act civil with one another. You don't like me, and to be honest I'm not that fond of you but we're both friends with Harry. So I suppose we just have to learn to behave."

Ron wrinkled his nose in displeasure. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Of course," Max retorted dryly. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes; she couldn't mess things up now.

"I guess I could handle that, though," Ron confessed after a moment, though he still looked peeved. Max grinned broadly.

"Truce, then?"

"Truce."

Max almost bounced back to her original seat by Neville. He didn't speak to her this time, but then again, the other boys didn't either. She supposed they'd leave her alone as long as she did the same with them. Even the girls had gotten up and moved on with their lives, hopefully for good. It would be bad news of Ginny Weasley got involved in things now.

In essence, Max was really back where she started. Ron had joined a conversation with more people she didn't know and her only attempt at friendship was too afraid to continue being her friend. However, hopefully there would be no more fighting between her, Harry, and his friends. And Ron hadn't even threatened her.

--

Max had managed to avoid her Slytherin enemies all morning, proving even further what a great day it was turning out to be. Now, she walked alone in the hallway as she headed towards lunch. Now would be the time when her and Ron's truce would really either be proven or broken. Hopefully it would be the latter, but Max could never be sure. Planning sure was hard work.

"Where's Harry?" she asked, sitting down across from Granger. Hermione shrugged, not looking up from her food to acknowledge Max. Ron, however, raised his eyes to silently greet her. The moment lasted only briefly, but it was enough to give Max a bit of hope. Though, the fact that Harry wasn't around bothered her. She hadn't seen him all day, which might have been a good thing considering the huge lump of drama she just barely avoided that morning.

"I think Snape kept him after," Neville finally spoke up from a few seats down. Max was surprised he was talking to her, clearly braver than he'd been this morning.

"Thanks," she responded, pulling some food on her plate. Neville nodded, returning to a conversation he was having with more Gryffindors Max didn't know. She swallowed some pumpkin juice happily, pleasantly surprised at the hospitality shown by the Gryffindors. Compared to the hostility radiating from her own house it was the favorable alternative.

However, the Slytherins had been quieter lately. They seemed to have realized that arguing with the blood traitor was useless, and harassing her wasn't worth it. The fact still remained that Max still knew how to fight back and on her worst day was better at comebacks then they were.

Also, even those who knew none of the details seemed to be under the impression that Max was still on the right peoples' side. There wasn't a correct way to explain it, but Max gave off the notion that no matter who she sided with somebody important was still around to protect her. In the current situation anybody who assumed that would be correct, after all. Not only did Max have Harry Potter publicly on her side, but Lord Voldemort was supporting her every move.

The thought of the Dark Lord brought a wave of shivers down Max's spine. As much confidence as she had in their relationship she couldn't help but worry about it. She hadn't heard from her father or her master since Christmas. She supposed it hadn't been that long ago, but she'd expected the Dark Lord to want constant updates on how she and Harry were doing.

Of course, it was all too possible that he'd found out her progress through other means, but if he had why had she not been confronted? How come she couldn't even receive a simple not from her father? It would be nice to know she was being appreciated. Perhaps, if she found the time, Max would make an effort to owl her father and question about her status. He should be all too pleased to respond.

"You're here," voiced the surprised Harry Potter.

"As opposed to?" Max quipped, laughing slightly. She was pleased to see Harry again, and even happier to note that he seemed to be in a good mood, despite having just gotten out of a lecture from Snape.

"What did he want?" Ron questioned, frowning slightly.

"Same old, same old," Harry groaned, rolling his eyes. Max tuned out then, letting the two boys chatter aimlessly about the drones of school and the horrors of Snape. Max found herself doing this often, lately, finding more comfort in her thoughts than in the words spoken in the real world. She'd learned to watch her tongue, to fade into the background, and had found safety in her silence.

It was strange for Max, who had always been the most happy with herself when she was arguing or yelling. She found security in her position on top when she brought other people down. As long as they all knew who she was and what she meant than she had no problems with herself. Now, however, Max found herself liking things better when she stayed silent. There was less chance of disaster.

"Max?"

"Sorry," Max mumbled, shaking her head and looking up at Hermione. "What do you want?"

"I was wondering what class you had next," Hermione pondered, her tone polite and expression composed. Max covered her suspicion carefully, glancing at Harry. The Boy Who Lived said nothing, though, and continued his conversation with Ron as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Defense," Max responded, finally focusing her attention on Hermione, who frowned.

"Shame," she muttered. "I have Charms with the boys and was so hoping to excuse myself from their mindless quarrels about quidditch."

"Sorry," Max said, not really knowing what else to say. It would appear that Hermione was being nice to her, inviting her to speak with something like they were friends. She supposed it might get tiring only having boys for friends, especially if you were the sort of Gryffindor person who needed companionship. Max had never much taken into account the gender of her friendships, though, always far too concerned with their house or how it might benefit or hurt her.

"It's alright. Perhaps I can get them to study this time."

"Ha, fat chance, Hermione," Ron scoffed, suddenly joining the conversation. Hermione, who should have been insulted, laughing and nudged Ron lightly.

"Fine, but don't come crying to me when you fail out of school."

"You can't fail out of Hogwarts," Ron bluffed, rolling his eyes. "Can you?"

"Well maybe if you read _Hogwarts, A History-"_

"I'm really proud of you," Harry whispered in Max's ear, blocking out the sound of Granger and Weasley's bickering. She smiled, having hoped he would say that.

"For what?" she asked anyway, feigning ignorance. Harry laughed, a pleasant sound to her ears in contrast to the awkward pitches coming out of the fighting friends across from her.

"For being friendly. It really helps."

"Well, you're welcome," she responded, looking hopeful. "I think Ron and I may have finally reached an understanding."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "He told me about that. I almost fainted with shock."

"I'm just sick of drama. There isn't any reason for us to fight, is there?"

Harry did not respond at first, briefly setting his eyes towards the Slytherin table. In appearance, they seemed to have forgotten about their previous queen. Slytherins were not ones to stick to one topic for very long and everybody seemed too concerned with their own problems to pay attention to Max any longer.

"I wouldn't say that," Harry concluded. Max raised an eyebrow at him in questioning. "There will always be people who don't like you."

"Like who? I'd be surprised if anybody cared anymore."

Harry seemed reluctant to respond, finding Max's question a little silly. She didn't appreciate it much herself, but couldn't think of another response. All the comments she wanted to voice would simply land her in trouble, something Max was working hard to avoid. Especially now that she seemed to have obtained a comfortable situation, Max didn't want to mess it up.

"Other Gryffindors. Ginny."

"Oh," Max breathed. She often forgotten to factor in Harry's fiery ex, perhaps the one obstacle before her. "How is that?"

"I haven't spoken with her since Christmas," Harry admitted, looking guilty down at his fingers. "I might have been avoiding her."

"Do you regret it?" Max blurted, her curiosity piqued.

"That's the thing," Harry started. "I don't, but I know she does. I don't want to hurt her."

"You're better than I am, Harry," Max sighed, blowing on her hair. Harry smiled, shaking his head.

"What?"

"I could never be concerned about somebody like that the way you are. I haven't even thought about what Draco thinks or feels," she told him. This was a lie, of course. Max had wasted many hours wondering what Draco's opinion of the whole situation was. Of course, that was because they were secretly still together. Max knew that should things have turned out differently, she wouldn't be so focused on Draco as she was now.

"I don't believe that," Harry protested, nudging her. She shook her head, eyes rolling as she nodded.

"I just don't care. He seems like he's from a different life now and I don't know if he would hurt if I moved on or if he ever thinks about me or…"

"You and Malfoy used to hate each other," Harry stated, frowning slightly. He hadn't known Max well enough when she'd started going out with Malfoy. He wondered what had caused them to suddenly befriend each other, and eventually go out.

"It was a power struggle. It was stupid, I think, and there wasn't any real base to it. That's why it was so easily forgotten."

"But this is different, isn't it?" Harry asked, though he knew the answer.

"Yes, Harry," Max whispered. "This is much different."


	43. Hush Hush

Max pushed her transfiguration book to the side, sighing as she tuned out whatever McGonagall had to say. Max was definitely a smart girl; she'd pick up whatever she missed later. Perhaps she could even convince Hermione to help her if she really wasn't getting along well. She wondered how good of terms you had to be on with the bushy haired girl to get anything out of her. Max let her mind get sidetracked for a moment considering all the times Hermione had been used by "friends."

See, that was the problem with Gryffindors. They all trusted too easily, completely ignoring the idea that people might have other agendas. Honestly, why else would you go to Hermione Granger if not for help on homework? She'd clearly been cheated off again and again and probably didn't realize it. She probably thought she had tons of genuine friends, but that was all a lie.

The truth was, Slytherins weren't really all that bad. Gryffindors still had those same selfish desires, they still used people, they did all those horrible things Slytherins were chided for. The only difference was that Slytherins recognized when somebody was against them. They were excellent at sensing the difference between truth and lie, always judging everybody, and never quite letting their guard down. Nobody was safe from prying eyes.

For Gryffindors, it was different. They had their friends and then they had enemies. It was very black and white. Your friends were always on your side and would therefore never do anything against you. You didn't have to worry about those in your house or those you held close to you; why would they ever cause you harm? Then, there were the enemies. Gryffindors avoided enemies at all cost and if push comes to shove simply ended up arguing with them. They kept enemies far away, despite the fact that they might have something dreadfully important to say.

Gryffindors were naïve. Slytherins were clever. It was as simple as that and Max didn't bother to let herself think about it anymore. She filed it away on her list "The Differences between Slytherins and Gryffindors," and moved on with her life.

There was a reason for Max's disregard for the teacher's lesson. Normally, Max would have been content with taking notes and testing her growing mind. Lately, she'd been interested in school. There were many things to be learned and if she tried hard now it was possible to get decent NEWTs and then get a job. Get out.

Max needed to write a letter, though, to her father, and there was no other time to do except during class. It was ironic that out of all the people she knew, her father was the one who knew the whole truth about the situation. Max had never been close to her father before; in fact, they hated each other. Yet, they'd seemed to join sides in the past couple of weeks. They were both after one thing now; the goal was to please the Dark Lord. So, in the end, it was her father she questioned when wanting to know how she was in her master's favor.

Max brought the quill to paper, choosing her words carefully.

_Father-_

_It's been some time since I've last heard from you or anyone outside of school, really. I believe the last contact I've had is Christmas, a dreadful long time ago. I don't know how much you've heard through the grapevine, though I do not doubt that our Master knows all. It would not surprise me that he's already heard any information I can give him at this point. This might be regretful news, I suppose, but one must understand the care and patience put into this whole mission. Personal relationships are finicky and I can't be too direct. _

_Anyway, this is not the purpose of this letter. Well, maybe it is, but it is certainly not the direction I was hoping to take it in. I just wanted to inform you of my progress, in case the Dark Lord has not already. If he has, then I suppose you can skip to the end of this. If not, then please proceed. _

_As plans go, mine was a pretty good one. I've landed myself exactly where I wanted, give or take a few minor details. For Christmas, I send Potter a late gift. It was very sentimental, as you can imagine. Lots of mentions of our past and that nonsense. I must admit, having befriended Potter in my early years has granted me great leverage in this mission. Perhaps-well I know-this is why I was chosen._

_With the return of school came the end of a relationship-in theory. Of course, Draco and I are still on good terms. Between the two of us nothing has changed. For Potter, however, everything has. In his mind, and I suppose in the rest of the school's, I've fallen down the food chain and broken away from my Slytherins classmates. I won't go into detail of how this happened, but let us just say that the public break-up was the perfect combination of drama and betrayal. I could be an actress if I wasn't such an excellent witch. _

_After that Harry and I quickly became friends. I think I've just established the base of our relationship. I've managed to get on good terms with his friends, gained some sort of trust from him, and found a balance between him and Draco. All together, things are going quite well. _

_Now, the purpose of this mission, of course, has not yet been fulfilled. I imagine that will take some time, though I hope I still have until the end of the year. Either way, I hope to squeeze out of Potter as much information as possible. For now, however, we're on perfect schedule. _

_Please respond as quickly as possible. I would really like to know how things are going on your end and what the Dark Lord wants of me. I assume he's far too busy to bother with letters to a schoolgirl, but I'm hoping I can get the gist through you. _

_-With love,_

_Max Connors_

Max finished the letter right on time; McGonagall had just concluded her lecture. Max quickly wrote down the homework, making a note to start it in the common room with Hermione. Hopefully the Gryffindors would not be too hostile towards her if she decided to finish up assignments in their precious room. Sometimes prejudice was such a bore.

Max was silent as she walked towards her next class, not looking at anybody in particular. She didn't have any classes with Harry that day, and therefore would not seen him until dinner. It was a long wait and Max found herself growing anxious without his presence. She found herself dosing off during class, despite her immense efforts to focus. Daydreaming just came so easy and Max even found herself doodling on the edge of History notes.

The only exiting part of the day was Draco catching her between classes and dragging her inside a small passage just outside of the girl's restroom.

"What-" Max was interrupted as he pressed his lips to hers, a smirk on his face. Max immediately responded, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and easing into the kiss. If anything, doing this freely was what Max missed the most. It could not be denied that Draco Malfoy was an excellent kisser. Together, they made quite the pair.

"Mmm," Draco moaned into the kiss, running his hands all over her body, slipping them up her shirt and massaging her back. She pulled herself against him, slipping her tongue into his mouth. It took only a few more moments for her to regain her senses back.

"We're gonna get caught," she murmured, Draco's mouth leaving her and diving down towards her neck. "A hickey won't help either."

Of course, Draco was never one to follow directions. She sucked and nipped, returning to her lips every so often. Max really couldn't deny him, giving into the pressure and settling with enjoying his pleasure. Really, not much complaining could be done.

"Nobody will notice us. You aren't that fabulous," Draco promised in between kisses. Max exhaled, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes.

"I have class," she protested, finally pushing him away. He stuck his lip out in a pout and Max leaned forward once more, sucking seductively on it.

"Ditch class."

"People will question my absence. You haven't noticed, but I've become quite studious."

"Do people really pay that much attention to you, or are you just that egotistical?" Draco demanded, growing annoyed. Max smirked, flashing a set of white teeth proudly.

"They pay a great deal of attention to Harry Potter's new best friend," she informed him smugly.

"Oh?" Draco questioned idly, the octaves in his voice rising just a pitch too high. "And how is Potter today?"

"I think he's a good mood," Max assumed, though she wasn't quite sure herself. "Yesterday, he was proud of me."

"Well," Draco snorted. "What an accomplishment."

"It was, if I do say so myself," Max said in all seriousness. She couldn't quite explain how nice it was to have somebody _proud_ of her. It sent all sorts of warm feelings bubbling in her stomach. Max felt the equivalent of a hormonal thirteen year old. It was silly, she knew, but maybe Harry was just helping her make up for the years she lost.

"And you've got his friends wrapped around your finger?" Draco continued, placing his hand on the lower of her back and bringing her closer. She smiled genuinely, nodding.

"For the most part," she shrugged, pressing her lips to his once more. Damn Draco for being so good looking. He responded, though, deepening the kiss once again. It really shouldn't be this difficult for the two to keep their hands off of each other. Maybe Harry wasn't the only one that made Max feel like a hormonal teenager. They both had their pros.

"Well, I suppose I'll let you be off towards that class you've been so dying to attend," Draco sighed, finally breaking free. Max rolled her eyes, more than a little disappointed that their session was over.

"See you later," she promised, waving as she bounded off towards the dungeons. Of course, Draco had the same class she did, but it would not be appropriate for them to attend together anymore.

"Probably not. I think I'm skipping the rest of the day," Draco called after her, a silly grin on his face. Max didn't have time to ask why, too distracted by the way his disheveled hair fell over his eyes. She was already late enough and couldn't be bothered to figure out the depths of Draco's logic. There were more important things to take care of.

Like, for one, not worrying too excessively about the response to the letter she'd sent just that morning.

--

Max happily chewed on her dinner, listening contently to the mindless chatter of the people around her. She'd taken a habit to silence during meals, favoring the sport of people watching. She was surprised how much gossip there was to pick up on, and if nothing else entertained her this certainly did. Occasionally, Harry would make a effort of including her in the conversation, but he himself enjoyed the gossip far too much to pay much attention to anything else. Besides, Max preferred it this way anyhow.

The normal dinner events were disrupted, however, when a large black owl flew in and dropped a letter right on Max's mashed potatoes. It left as quickly as it came, leaving Max a little short of shocked as she stared at the white parchment.

"What's that?" Harry asked in-between bites as he leaned over to examine.

"It's from my father," Max said fearfully. Did he not realize the sort of people she was around now? Surely he would not be stupid enough to send letters to her during the middle of a meal! Now there would be questions to answer, ones she wasn't sure she could do so thoroughly.

Thankfully, Harry did not interrupt Max's fear correctly. She was afraid of his reaction, but instead Harry took it that she was afraid of her father.

"Open it," he commanded, picking up the letter and slipping his finger nail beneath the seal.

"No!" Max cried, snatching it back from him. Hermione looked at her questionably, eyebrow raised in curiosity. Damn.

"What is it?" Harry pressed, frowning. He'd been in such a good mood before, just as Max had predicted, and she wasn't pleased to find that he was now dubious.

"I'll open it later," Max mumbled, sticking the letter in her bag. "I don't want to think about it now."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked in concern. "Maybe it would be better if you had somebody around for support…"

"No," Max countered, shaking her head. "You shouldn't have to read the sort of things my father says."

"Max," Harry protested, but she cut him off.

"I know, I know," she said quickly, the words slipping off her tongue without much thought. "Trust me, it's just better this way."

"Trust you," Harry repeated, the word tasting funny on his tongue. He'd never really put Max and trust together before, though he certainly didn't distrust her. He still wasn't certain of her motives, though, and it couldn't be ignored how suspicious it was that she was fighting so hard to keep the contents of the letter a secret.

"Yes," Max said, her voice soft and strange. "You've heard of it, haven't you?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your father?" Harry blurted, his brain scattered.

"Christmas," Max replied honestly. At least she could give him that.

"That long?" Harry questioned, surprised.

"Yeah, why?" Max asked, a little surprised herself to find that he was just as shocked as she was that they hadn't contacted each other sooner.

"I just thought that with everything going on he would owled you or something," Harry shrugged, returning to his food.

"Better late than never?" she sighed, shoving the letter deeper into her bag.

"You'll tell me what it says tomorrow, though, right?" Harry asked, suddenly returning to the subject again. Max's stomach lurched; she'd thought they were done with this.

"Why?" she asked, trying to keep her voice composed, as if it didn't matter.

"I just want to make sure you're okay," Harry informed her. "That's all."

Max didn't respond, considering this for a moment. She wasn't sure that she believed what he said, but the thought still sent chills through her spine. It was still strange to have somebody care and watch over her in the way that Harry did. Usually when somebody wanted something it was for their own needs, but the whole concept of actually looking out for somebody before one's self was new and fresh. Max couldn't say she didn't like it.

However, she could never tell Harry the true contents of the letter, whatever they were, in fear of him finding out the truth behind their friendship. As much as she wished to confide in him, they both knew there were just some things that could never be said.

The only thing was, Max didn't want to have to lie to him again. With every lie that fell off of her tongue the guilt inside her intensified. It got worse each day and she wasn't sure she could bear it any longer. It was stupid, in theory, but Max just couldn't get over it.

Max knew going into this mission that it wouldn't be easy. She knew the difficulties that lay ahead of her, but she hadn't imagined that the lying would be hard. She'd been doing it all her life and she thought this would be the same. But, as it had been said before, Slytherins and Gryffindors were nothing alike.

Apparently, lying to Gryffindors was a lot more tiresome than Max thought.

--

_Max-_

_I was wondering when I would receive a letter from you. I was afraid all those things I'd heard were lies. How disappointed I was for a while, but it is a relief to know how well you are doing. I admit, I was a bit concerned over Christmas that you might not be able to accomplish this, but the Dark Lord has faith in you. And, like the Connor that you are, you can through. _

_The Dark Lord does not have any further instructions for you, aside from what you have already been told. Yes, you still do have until the end of the year. Like many years previous, this will be when he plans to make his move. If all goes well and you gather the needed information Potter should be knocked off his feet. We will prevail and the Boy Who Lived will live no more. The thought brings chills to me. _

_I am also pleased to hear your studies are coming along better than before. Perhaps there is some good in befriending Potter. Needless to say, your seventh year is turning up. Keep up what you are doing and I sense a prosperous future ahead of you. The Dark Lord will greatly honor you for what you have done for him, this I can assure you. He does not let sacrifice and success go unnoticed. _

_It may seem difficult now, but remember you have Mr. Malfoy. Do not let the other Slytherins get to you. They don't understand the greatness that is taking place underneath the curtain. Keep your head and do not fail. _

_So much depends on you, Maxwell. Make your father proud._

_-Nate Connors. _


	44. Learn You Inside Out

Despite trying to maintain a steady friendship with Harry and an even steadier relationship with Draco, Max spent a great deal of her time alone. She found that after you betray your kin even those who you betrayed them for were not keen on showing loyalty. There was no longer anyone to fall back on. And so almost happily Max found herself cruising through life, going hours without even speaking to anybody.

In some ways this was nice. She'd rather them leave her alone than listen to their snide remarks. It was easier to sort of disappear, or become an invisible elephant. Nobody bothered her, partly because they still remembered the girl she was before, and partly because they just didn't care. Without her status, Max Connors wasn't much of anything. She was just a girl, not quite normal, but not quite interesting enough to follow. She, after all, had defeated no one.

In other ways this new sense of independence was troublesome. "Idle hands are the Devil's workshop" and all. As if Max could get into any more trouble than she was already in. All the same, she found herself wasting hours down my the lake, just thinking. Sometimes she just let her mind wander, not hindering it from traveling to places she wouldn't have dared step near a few months ago. Harry brought out all sorts of strange sides of her she never would have imagined were still around.

It sounded sort of cheesy, the kind of things that made Max sick to her stomach, but she spent most of her free time soul searching. She forgot to worry about the things she so cared about and just let herself be. She grew to know herself, grew to understand some of the things she'd ignored too long to even mention anymore. There were all these pieces she pushed away when she came to Hogwarts, and the feeling she felt when they came out was indescribable.

Being happy, truly happy, was such an awkward feeling. It left Max venerable and scared, but exited. It was an adventure she was on now and for once Max didn't care where things were headed. Of course, she was still always fretting over her safety, but she'd got the line she was balancing on down to an art.

At the moment, Max wasn't thinking much of anything. She was simply letting her feet dangle in the water, twisting the grace and letting little bugs crawl on the palms of her hands. She felt like a young schoolgirl, daydreaming about things that were out of her reach. For Max, everything was in her reach, though. She'd known from the moment she was born that she could have anything she wanted. There was no self doubt. If she made smart decisions and knew what she wanted she could get it.

Well, it didn't help that Max had no idea what she wanted. She didn't know much of anything, really, when it came down to it. Yet, it had come to the point where she didn't care. She just let go. She just _was. _

Max lay down in the grass, closing her eyes and laying her arms all about the damp green. She heard a laugh from behind, something soft and free and new. She opened one eye, unsurprised to be met with glowing emeralds above her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, frowning slightly. She felt like a child with him looking down upon her like that, but for once there was no negative connotation to that thought. She felt that if she was going to play the part of Harry's friend she might as well take advantage of it. If she wanted to act like a child then she would; Harry wouldn't judge her.

"Looking for you, actually. I knew I should have come here first," he chided himself, rolling his eyes. Max hoisted herself up, black locks falling over her rosy cheeks as she smiled mischievously.

"Well you've found me. Why were you looking?" she questioned, scooting closer to him and brushing debris out of her hair. Harry chuckled once more, shrugging. It might have been the weather, but Max swore she saw his cheeks warm with color.

"Just felt like it," he responded, giving all the explanation he could bother with. She shook her head, sighing dramatically. Awkwardly, her eyes gazed over the grounds. They were fairly empty, a few younger students scattered about and playing happily. It was cold outside, so most of the older and sensible students were studying or resting in their respective common rooms.

"Where are your friends?" Max inquired, trying to make casual conversation. She wished she could be normal enough to have a casual conversation about friends, but in reality the topic was a sore one. It was still undecided whether or not Max was accepted into the group of Gryffindors. Harry didn't much like talking about the things they discussed without Slytherin presence. It was almost as if he didn't want to let her into the secrets of being a lion.

While this was understandable, it troubles Max greatly. If he wouldn't talk about his friends, about his Gryffindor ways, how was Max expected to get anything useful out of him? Her master was pleased with her now, but she knew that wouldn't last very long if she didn't come through. It was a difficult task keeping Lord Voldemort up to date. He always seemed to want so much more than Max could ever give.

It seemed, these days, that everybody did.

"Studying," Harry stated, pausing before continuing. "I probably should be joining them, but the moment I had an inkling you might be out here I couldn't stay put."

"Oh what do we have here!" Max snickered. "You're drawn to me, Potter."

"Well," he coughed, turning red in the cheeks. Max chuckled smugly. "It's hard not to be."

"I can only imagine," Max said whimsically. An awkward silence was coming upon them, Max knew, and she struggled to force it off. Light conversation and small laughs could only be sufficient for so long.

"I have a question," Harry announced, causing Max's attention to focus. She nodded.

"What is it?"

"How…" he trailed off, pausing a minute to consider his words. She wondered if she wasn't going to like this question. "How's drawing going?"

"Drawing?" Max repeated. She hadn't been expecting that. The subject was rarely brought up in conversation, if ever. It sounded strange on her lips and caused her eyebrows to wrinkle in confusion.

"You know, the thing you do with a pen and paper…" Harry quipped, offering a smile. She narrowed her eyes.

"I know what it is," she snapped, pausing for a moment. "I am the one who does it, after all."

"Do you?" Harry inquired, his voice low and husky. Curiosity burned inside of him, alongside the emotion of blatant caring.

"I don't know," Max replied, her insides squirming.

"You used to love it," Harry whispered. Max didn't respond. She knew that was true. Once upon a time Max did love drawing. She'd do it at any moment possible. Often, she'd have to force Harry to sit still as her model. Max dreamt about drawing forever, sometimes staying behind to do so while others jumped ahead.

"Sometimes I still do," Max responding, answering what felt right at the moment. It was one of those times where she just had to speak, never mind what she was actually thinking or what would best benefit the situation. It left her feeling open and confused. Max didn't like doing it, but unfortunately was forced to often. Especially with Harry.

"You're really good. That's how I know I can trust you…when you sent me those pictures for Christmas…"

Max had almost forgotten about that. It seemed so long ago that she was trying to trick Harry into being her friend. Now that she'd gotten his companionship, she wasn't sure what step to take next. She found herself fumbling around awkwardly, like a blind man in the dark.

"It's not a big deal," She protested quietly, her voice cracking. "It's just…me."

"Exactly!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes brightening up. His teeth shone in the sunlight, dim as it was, and there was this glow in his face that Max hadn't noticed before. Harry, in his own way, was really quite gorgeous. It was subtle and masked, but there was this beauty in him that occasionally came out.

"You're so stupid, Potter," Max sighed, shoving him playfully. He rolled his eyes, gathering her hands in his as he stared at her. Max really hated when he did this. He was so sweet, so pure, and treated her with this genuine love. It made Max recoil inside herself, unaware of how to respond to such affection. She wanted to break free and give in to him, but there were no many walls and obstacles put up in every which way. All that was left to do what pretend, but sometimes pretending wasn't enough.

"Will you please draw again?" Harry pleaded, his voice like a child's. "For me?"

"Why?" Max asked, trying not to fall into his puppy emerald eyes. Harry was so unique and different. Max, who usually knew exactly how to handle people, found herself struggling with Harry. What was she supposed to do or say next to best please him?

"Because I like it when you draw. It reminds me of you, and…I think it's good."

"What am I supposed to draw? I'm not inspired!" Max argued, eyebrow raised. Harry paused to think, placing his fingers on his chin and stroking dramatically. Max laughed loudly, causing a few eyes to direct her way.

"Draw me!" Harry suggested with a wink. "You used to do it all the time."

"Used to," Max pointed out, raising a finger. Harry gave her a pointed look, leaning forward. He studied her face carefully, like a child trying to figure out something puzzling. He licked up every feature like candy, awkward and strange in his own way. The concentrated expression in his face was almost cute, but Max forced her mind out of that direction. She knew better than to get to emotionally involved. Things were already bad enough as it was.

"Not everything has to change, Max," he finally breathed, his warm air climbing up her nostrils. He smelled like cinnamon and fire, a musky sort of sent that sent shivers down Max's spine. She leaned back, inhaling the fresh hair.

"Fine," she groaned, defeated. If art was what Harry wanted than art would be what he would get. "But I don't have any supplies."

Harry grinned cheekily, turning to dig through his bag. It took a moment, but finally he looked off, hands full of paper and pencils.

"You planned this!" Max yelled, throwing her arms up.

"No-"

"Oh, you're sneaky," she laughed, but took the supplies from his arms anyway. She took a moment to settle herself, organizing the pencils and adjusting the paper.

"Max?" Harry questioned. She looked up for a moment, a devious smile on her face.

"Well, pose," she ordered, waving her hand. Harry looked surprised, having expected her to protest and refuse. He quickly regained his composure, though.

"How?"

"Go stand over there," Max suggested, shrugging. Her features were relaxed and casual, but there was a certain sparkle that was sending Harry's mind into reels. Max carefully watched him, waiting for the boy to lean against the bark of a tree and find a comfortable position. Then, almost without thinking, Max went to work.

Drawing, for some people, came difficult. Max never understood how that felt, though. She always knew just the right angles to pencil in, could eye the picture and shade everything perfectly. She extenuated the right features when drawing a person and knew which flaws to hide.

It was a natural ability, and it made Max feel good inside to capture an image and preserve it forever. She'd placed Harry perfectly, making sure to draw the light that flickered through the leaves and onto his frail skin. Max got everything down to perfect detail, even the freckles that lightly grazed his nose. She swooped over the page gracefully, making sure not to forget the lazy nature in which she stood.

As Max finished she smiled, proud of her work. It wasn't hard to give into drawing, and she'd forgotten how much she loved it. It was wonderful to be in an environment where her talents were appreciated instead of destroyed. It was hard to flourish in Slytherin, always so constricted by beliefs and judgments.

"Are you done yet?" Harry shouted from the tree, struggling to keep his face composed. "I don't remember it ever taking this long."

Max smirked, shading carefully at the corner of the page. She raised her eyes to see the pained face of her friend, though he tried to mask it. Harry was never very good at hiding his emotions, though. She could read him like an open book, as cliché as that sounded. Harry liked to believe he was subtle, but the discomfort on his face was obvious. Max laughed.

"You aren't having fun? I thought it was you who wanted to do this!"

"I did!" Harry defended. "I just didn't think it was going to take this long. I'm so stiff."

Max snorted, rolling her eyes and putting her supplies down. She wrapped her arms around her knees, leaning forward.

"Are you complaining?" she teased.

"No!" Harry argued, narrowing his eyes. "How close are you to being done with the drawing?"

"Oh!" Max exclaimed with a laugh. "The drawing? I finished that ages ago."

"I hate you!" Harry yelled, jumping forward and tackling her to the ground. She yelped, struggling to push him off of her. They rolled around in the grass, drawing attention to themselves by the second. Max was screaming and laughing, while Harry was shouting and declaring victory.

"I thought you were 'stiff?" Max huffed, finally ripping away from him and adjusting her hair. Harry was panting, his cheeks red and Harry more mussed than usual.

"Well now I'm relaxed," he declared, laying back on the grass. Max looked around the grounds, watching carefully as eyes turned back to what they were doing. She was a bit annoyed that everybody had been watching her, but while she was fooling around with Harry Max hadn't cared.

While she usually was always so concerned about what other people thought of her, Max had completely forgotten other people were around for a few minutes. It was like she [and Harry] were the only people on the grounds. It was such a nice feeling. She was finally letting loose. She was finally a person she could consider liking again.

It was strange that Harry brought this out in her. It was even more strange that her worst act yet was turning her into the best version of herself.


	45. Heart Beats

"You're more quiet than usual," Draco commented. Frequently, Max stayed up until all hours of the night with him. They couldn't converse during the day, and in order to keep the relationship strong they sacrificed sleep for each other. Luckily, nobody suspected anything so far. Max's roommates assumed she was too ashamed to show her presence, while Draco's lived so far beneath him that it didn't much mater what he did.

"How very perceptive of you," Max retorted, narrowing her eyes. A small smirk played on her lips, though, and Draco knew she wasn't truly annoyed. Besides, with so little sleep and so much Potter Draco couldn't blame the girl for being a little exasperated.

"I'm just saying. Not that you were a spas before, but you're starting to act like a loner!" Draco teased, knitting his eyebrows together. Max scoffed, nudging him playfully in the arm.

"I _am_ a loner. Why are we discussing this?" she complained. Her arms were crossed uncomfortably, and her face was set into a complacent expression. She didn't look like she cared much about what Draco though and was tired of this pointless conversation. In fact, the less time she spent with Draco the more their conversations grew petty and unimportant. Max couldn't help but wish she was somewhere else. The chatter was boring and Draco was like a stranger. They lived in different worlds down.

"I'm just saying. You'd think you would abuse the time you have away from Potter, but instead it's the other way around!"

"What are you talking about?" Max demanded, gritting her teeth together. This was the other part she hated about being with Draco. Whenever they weren't making small talk he was questioning her. He still didn't trust her loyalty to him or their master. He always wanted to know what was going on with her and Harry, and when she didn't tell him he got angry. Max couldn't remember the last time they'd gone without a fight about it.

"I saw you and him the other day. You two looked like a perfect couple, really. Everybody sees it."

"Draco, stop," Max ordered, shaking her head and turning to face him. "I'm not going to have this conversation with you."

"So it's true? _Are_ you and Potter an item?" Draco exclaimed, his face turning red.

"Would it matter? You know-I've told you-it's all fake. I'm pretending."

"I don't believe you anymore," Draco responded curtly. His jaw was set, a stern look in his eyes. Draco was prepared to fight. Max, more aware than usual tonight, could see it coming for a while away, and for once she didn't want to join him.

"Did you ever?" she quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Was I ever given reason to?" Draco responded, his eyes hard and expression dubious. Max sighed, gritting her teeth together. He was being insufferable and she refused to go through this again. She had far too much to deal with without Draco's speculations and accusations. The stress was causing her to be ill and Max was done with it.

"Look, you either believe me or you don't. I don't really care anymore, but this is the last time I've having this conversation with you," Max paused, standing up and picking up her things. It was late and she was irate. It was time for bed.

"Where are you going?" Draco called, following her. He skipped, hurrying to keep her pace.

"To bed, Draco. It isn't worth staying up just to argue with you. I've told you time and time again that I'm not betraying you. You know t he plan and you know what I must do. I can't listen to you criticizing me for the way I do it."

"I'm not-"

"Don't argue," Max pleaded, cutting him off. She stood before the girl's staircase, gazing at him a wry expression on her face. "You're going to have to learn to deal with the way things are. If you can't do it then just tell me and we can this now. Until you decide, I'm going to bed."

Max didn't give him a chance to respond, striding up the stairs with purpose. She didn't linger in her room, thankful that her roommates were fast asleep. There were upsides to staying up so late, and occasionally Max felt like they overpowered all the downsides. She was quick to fall asleep then, anxious to return to her dreams and escape from life's pressures.

]--[

Harry watched Max carefully at breakfast that morning. She seemed distant and distracted, her eyes flickering throughout the room. It gave Harry a sort of unsettling feeling in his stomach, especially when he thought about what he planned to do that afternoon. Max didn't seem to notice his concerned expression, though, despite the questioning looks Ron and Hermione showed.

"Are you alright?" he whispered in her ear, leaning over to make sure nobody else heard. She snapped her head, gazing at him straight in the eye. Harry was always breath taken when he saw her eyes; it sounded cliché, but he couldn't help himself. They weren't anything special, when he thought about it. He knew a million other girls with that exact shade of blue. None of them held the same intensity as Max, though. Her eyes were wild, to match her personality, and almost always frazzled and surprised. It was almost as if she wasn't expecting him to speak with her and almost feared it. Then again, maybe Harry was looking too far into it.

"Of course," Max promised, though she looked downcast. Smiling faintly, she picked at her food, only taking small bites. Harry watched her carefully, trying to be discreet as he tried to connect to where she was looking. After a good ten minutes, Harry finally understood.

"Are you not over him?" he blurted, his stomach lurching uncomfortably. This did not bode well for him, though it wasn't as if he didn't expect it. Harry didn't know how close Max was with Malfoy, so much that it surprised him when he heard that their relationship sounded genuine. He'd always thought it was something they did abruptly because they had too, not because they wanted to. Every once in a while he had to remind himself that Max did feel something for Malfoy, even if he felt nothing in return.

"Who? What?" she cried, looking confused. Her hair fell messily into her eyes, her white teeth gnawing on her lip. Harry gestured in the direction of Malfoy, nodding.

"You keep looking at him," he told her, anxiously awaiting her response. Max's eyebrows knit together in thought, but other than that her expression told Harry nothing about what she was thinking. It troubled Harry that he could never read her. Harry didn't pride himself in being able to read people, but he could usually tell what sort of emotions they were feeling even if he couldn't pinpoint the exact one. At least he could tell whether somebody was feeling positive or negative towards something. With Max, though, he could never tell. She was a mystery.

"We…had a run-in," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. She appeared nervous, though Harry couldn't imagine what about. He always remembered her as being confidant, but the closer he became with her the more she appeared to be self-conscious. She was always so careful with her words and expressions, as if she was trying to hide something from him. Perhaps, had it been anybody else, Harry would have been concerned about this. Maybe he should have seen through her uncanny attitude and through to something more, but Harry could not. He was blinded by whatever façade she put up. He believed every word that came out of her mouth, honest or not.

"What happened?" he questioned, trying not to sound too eager. The rest of the room had faded from his mind. He was cast under her spell now, completely focused on whatever she had to tell him.

"We just argued. It's not like we can get along now…but I'm done arguing, you know?" she pressed, looking up at him. Something had broken, the walls tumbling down a bit as she continued to explain the way she felt about it. "All we ever do is argue now and I'm done. I know the way he feels and I've told him the way I feel. I just wish…he could accept that, maybe? That…if he can't just be nice he would leave me alone…" she trailed off, looking confused again.

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured, not really knowing what else to say. He never was one for words.

"It's okay…" she paused, struggling with her words. "I mean, he's not important, right?"

"Is he?" Harry repeated idly, a sort of loopy smile on his face. Max didn't respond, instead returning to picking at her food. Harry wasn't sure if she continued to stare at Malfoy; he didn't see her eyes flicker in his direction, but maybe she was just being more sly about it. Never-the-less, she was quiet for the rest of the day.

]--[

Max had somewhat forgotten about what had happened with Draco and Harry. Their conversations had faded and she'd gotten over it like she'd gotten over many things before. Not many people expected it from her, but Max rarely held grudges. There were too many things going on in her life to focus on one of them and before long she'd forgotten why somebody wronged her. Besides, by then somebody had already distracted her with another insult.

The rest of the day had gone by smoothly, though, and Max was almost proud of herself. She'd received perfect scores on two exams and obtained one of the top grades on her transfiguration class. Any other day Hermione would have been burning with jealously, but instead she congratulated Max and asked for help. It was strange to be tutoring the smartest girl in their class, but Max couldn't help but burst with happiness because of it. She really was accomplishing things, even if they went unnoticed.

All the same, Harry had avoided her all that afternoon. He'd left her to chat idly with Hermione while running off whispering with Ron. Max didn't know what was wrong, but she could tell something was up; Ron's face was red with anger as they scuffled off together. She tried prodding Hermione for information, but the girl just smiled and kept her lips shut.

"Sometimes I feel so out of the loop," Max complained to her, sticking her lip out in a pout. Hermione's eyebrows raised into her hair, an incredulous look on her face.

"What loop?" she questioned, though it was clear she knew what Max was talking about. Max couldn't help but narrow her eyes, despite the fact that she knew it would only cause troubles she couldn't afford between her and Harry's friends.

"You know…Harry's."

"That's strange," Hermione commented. "I didn't know Harry had a loop."

Max scoffed. She knew Hermione was fibbing, trying to avoid the obvious truth. Despite the fact that Harry had accepted her and Max was now on speaking terms with most Gryffindors, Hermione did not consider Max in anyway part of the loop. Her silence said what her tact would not; Max didn't feel like she was in the loop because she wasn't.

"You would be like that," Max retorted, standing and turning on her heal to walk away, only to find she'd run into Harry.

"Where are you going?" he asked, a sort of crazy grin on his face. His eyes were shining brightly, seemingly larger behind his glasses. His hair was windblown, cheeks red as if he'd been running around outside for hours on end.

"Nowhere," Max responded curtly, keeping her eyes downward. Hermione's insinuations had shaken her courage and now it felt strange to talk to Harry. She was almost hurt to hear that she really _wasn't _progressing as far as she would have liked. It was more than that, though. Max could feel displeasure in places that had nothing to do with her mission or goal. The distinctions and disappointments were crazy.

"Good!" Harry exclaimed, taking her by the hand. "Then you can come talk with me," he announced, dragging her into the corridor and positioning her against the wall. She faced him curiously, her expression unreadable. It was a striking contrast to Harry's features, which were clearly filled with delight.

"What are you doing, Potter?" she teased, finding herself almost uncomfortable with is strange behavior. "Going to kidnap me, eh?"

"Don't be silly," he jeered, nudging her lightly. "I just have something to ask you."

"And you had to drag me out hear to do it?" she replied with a roll of her eyes.

"I don't want to be interrupted," he declared, furrowing his eyebrows. His jaw was set in perfect determination, though it faltered occasionally.

"Are you nervous?" she asked, unsure whether or not she was joking or not. Harry shuffled his feet, his confidence suddenly fading. He still hadn't let go of her hand, and Max found herself wishing his palms weren't so sweaty. She didn't remember them being like this; he must really be nervous.

"To be honest, yes. I-" he cut off, struggling for a moment. Max could almost see the wheels turning in his head. She bit her lip, wishing he would just spit it out.

"What?" she demanded, regretting how worried her voice sounded.

"Well," Harry once again paused, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "Will you go out with me?"

"Huh?" Max blurted, blown away. Had she heard him right?

"Will you…you know…be my girlfriend?" he repeated slowly, pronouncing each word with delicate care. Max stared at him in disbelief, shaking her head to reassure herself that the words he was saying were true. It was so…Max couldn't even find a word for it. It was like an out of body experience, something that should have happened to another girl with another life.

Connors didn't converse with traitors like the Potters. They especially didn't go out with them. It was against all of Max's basic instincts to even be this near to Potter. Was it really safe to get ever closer to him? Sure, it was part of her job, but it was not wise of Max to become attached. She did have to keep in mind what this relationship was leading up to. Max was to suck information from him, feed it to her master, and in the end Potter would die. Could she really _go out_ with a boy who had limited time left?

There was also Draco to consider. He was already angry over their friendship and Max knew she would be risking things if she accepted Harry's offer. She'd told Draco before they'd even begun that it might come to this, but that didn't mean he had to be pleasant about it. In fact, Draco probably didn't even know what he was getting himself into when he agreed. He might be regretting his choices by now and what if saying yes to Harry pushed him over the edge? Having Draco Malfoy against her was not something Max wanted. She needed few things in her life, but she hated to admit Draco Malfoy's loyalty was one of them.

Was _going out_ with Harry that big of a deal, though? Max knew it was, but it would ease her conscious if she could convince herself it wasn't. Her heart, the truth, belonged to Draco. It sounded sort of cheesy, but both she and him knew who she truly wanted to be with. The only problem, of course, was that they were the only ones that knew. They were the only ones that were important too, right?

Honestly, Max sort of did want to go out with Harry. She wouldn't mind being his girlfriend, and especially wouldn't mind being able to really prove to Hermione and the other Gryffindors that she _was_ part of the loop. Harry liked her a considerably large amount, if not more than his other friends. Not to mention, the boy was not bad looking. Max wouldn't mind sharing the occasional kisses, something she'd secretly been dying to do since she learned how gentle he was. He was a direct contrast to Draco and Max wanted to know what that felt like.

Really, the decision was already made for her. It wasn't like she could say no, right? So, she sucked up all her courage and smiled, a shy and uncertain bearing of the teeth, before leaning forward and pressing her lips against his for the first time. Then, after breaking away slowly, she whispered her answer.

"Yes."


	46. The Ultimate CoverUp

Draco Malfoy, above anything else, liked to be in control. In all aspects of his life, he was used to having the control. He always had the upper hand and carefully executed all his actions to leave himself the one at the top. When the war broke out again, he was certain the control was his as well. His father was quick to return to the Dark Lord's side. Lucius Malfoy had always been high in the ministry food chain. Without a doubt he could be called one of the most influential people in the wizarding world.

Draco wasn't hesitant to follow in his footsteps. He figured that as long as he followed his father and obeyed his master nothing could go wrong. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Lord Voldemort would destroy Potter when the time came. Sure, the pompous Gryffindor had gotten lucky time and time again, but he was a simple schoolboy. In the end, his powers were nothing in comparison to Lord Voldemort's.

Throughout most of his life, Draco Malfoy help the power. If he wanted anything at all, all he had to do was ask his mother or father. His mother cared for him deeply, something he appreciated her greatly for. She would do anything it took to get him what he wanted, and it was just their luck that his father could obtain almost anything without so much as a second thought. From a young age Draco was spoiled, and he strived to be just like his father when he grew up.

After entering school, Draco made sure to make his place known. To be frank, his only struggle was Max Connors. She held a similar attitude towards power, wanting the same things he did. They'd fought for most of his school career until Draco had decided it would be more beneficial if they came together than not. They were striving towards the same things, after all, and if both could accept equal power there was no reason to fight.

Max had always been determined and strong. She didn't let many people in, didn't take orders well, and acted in bold ways Draco had never seen before. It didn't take long before he was completely enthralled with her. She did whatever she wanted and got away with it. Even he could not accomplish that. She followed Voldemort because she knew he would win, and obeyed him because she wanted to. In his eyes, Max was never forced into anything.

Before long Draco began realizing that he didn't hold the control anymore. He'd completely thrown it into Max's hands, disregarding any concern for how it might affect him. She held the power in their relationship and wasn't afraid to use it. She was powerful in so many more ways than one. It wasn't just the way she acted, but she was magically powerful as well. Draco couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about Max that made her not like anybody else he'd ever met. She was a mystery.

Even if Max held the control Draco refused to let himself worry over it. Max was on his side, on his master's side, and the outcome of the war would remain the same as it add always been. His side would win. He really shouldn't have to keep reminding himself of this, but somehow he always did. He knew the power that Lord Voldemort held, and he knew that he could never be defeated. It wasn't an option he could handle.

The more time Max Connors spent with Potter, though, the more Draco's opinions began to change. His confidence began to falter and now everything he once believed in he wasn't so sure of. Draco wasn't stupid; he knew that Max Connors was important to the outcome of the war. He didn't know how or why, but it was clear to everybody with eyes that Max and her loyalties were not to be taken lightly. Her magical abilities stretched on further than the eye could see, and her rank among the Death Eaters was higher than even some of the most devoted, longest followers could claim to have.

Draco could not forget the fact that she sat so close to Lord Voldemort over Christmas. Most Death Eaters her age and of her status were near the end of the table. It took far more than Draco could ever imagine to be sitting up so close to the master. He was only granted the privilege because of his father, and because it was his house. Strictly speaking, Max should have been down with her petty friends.

She wasn't, though. Max held control and power over the majority of the wizarding world. For some reason she was imperative to the war and Voldemort's plans. Of course, Draco knew the mission she was to follow, but there had to be more than that. There had to be something else that only Voldemort knew that would make her so pertinent.

To be honest, that scared Draco a bit. He didn't know what made her so special that Harry Potter found her worthy to be his friend, but the whole idea had been dwelling on Draco's mind ever since she had officially been accepted into "The Golden Trio."

It was evident to everybody in the school that Potter had changed. Under normal circumstances he should have rejected Max completely. She should have never even been given the chance to be his friend, much less the close one she appeared to be. Max had assured Draco she didn't have him under any sort of imperius or spell, but he wasn't so sure. The cards didn't add up; they never had.

Perhaps this wouldn't have bothered Draco as much if it wasn't Max that had changed as well. He couldn't put his finger on it, but no matter how many times she promised him whose side she was on, Draco always doubted. She just made her and Potter's relationship so believable. She rarely complained about it either, like he expected she would. It was almost as she enjoyed his company. That scared Draco more than anything.

Because, if Max was so important, if Max held so much power, what would happen if she switched sides? The idea had just barely come to Draco, but once it did he couldn't get it out of his head. The reason he was so paranoid about her loyalties was not because he was worried about Max _cheating_, on him. Draco knew he was far better in comparison to Potter. Even if she did have to pretend to be his friend, or go out with him, or whatever, Draco was fully aware Max liked him better. No, his reasons for worry were not as petty as that.

If Max were to ever change her mind and decide she was rooting for the other side Draco didn't know what would happen. It would be the greatest hit towards his side, though. They would be losing so much, and even though Draco didn't know the extent of the impact Max had on the war, he knew it was a large one. It wasn't something anybody had ever told him, but he could feel it inside of him. Just looking at her he could tell.

If Max continued to hang around Potter and listen to all his silly ideas and goals eventually the lies would become truth. He knew she had to agree with everything Potter said to keep up the façade, but one day Draco knew she'd just start believing herself. He feared that day and for that reason he tried the best he could to pull her back towards him. She had to remember what she believed in and who she was following. She couldn't get caught up in the emotions and the rush that Potter offered. Max had to keep a steady head and leave her heart out of things. Draco knew she was fairly good at that, but sometimes, especially when Potter was concerned, she needed reminding.

He knew she hadn't exactly gained what she went in looking for yet. Draco knew Max didn't tell him everything, but was almost certain that if Potter revealed decent information she'd at least tell him of her win, if not exactly what Potter had said. It was troubling that Max came out of the Gryffindor every night with nothing, though. He worried that she was focusing too much on enjoying his company, playing her cards right, and not on what the true purpose of the mission was. If she continued with this, Draco feared she would lose. The power would not be balanced.

That's what it all came down to, really. Draco was desperate to maintain control. If he couldn't have it himself, he at least had to keep it on his side of the battle. He couldn't let Max fade away, taking the chances of winning with her. He was addicted to her power; he couldn't let her leave him. The problem was, the more he tried to hold on the more he felt like he was pushing her away.

"Have you gained some sense of understanding? Had an epiphany and finally decided to be civil?" she retorted, falling into step with him. Draco looked up, surprised to see her. He'd left her a note asking for her to meet with him that night. There were things they had to discuss, though Draco didn't exactly know how to go about doing that.

"I've never _not_ treated you exactly the way you deserved," he told her, grabbing her hand in his. It was a strange action for them, and he could tell she was shocked by the look on her face. Never-the-less, she did look beautiful in the night. He'd grown to appreciate her in the darkness, the only time they could truly be together openly. He loved the way her dark locks fell over her pale face, contrasting and blending all in the same time. Like many other aspects of Max, her ability of beauty was just another mystery.

"Perhaps your opinions are biased," she snorted, flashing him her teeth. Draco shrugged, stopping and leaning against the wall. Even when he wasn't pleased with her, Draco couldn't help but find it extremely sexy when they wandered the corridors late at night. There was something so appealing about misbehavior.

"So is it true?" he questioned, getting straight to the point. He knew he'd have to choose his words carefully with this argument. Last time they'd spoken, Max had made it perfectly clear where she stood on the matter. It was time for Draco to grow up, or at least to grow smarter with his tactics.

"Is what true?" she responded. Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes; as if she didn't know.

"You and Potter. Are you going out?" he demanded, his tone rougher than before.

"It's true. And before you freak out, may I remind you that we both new this was going to happen," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Her blue eyes flashed with warning, but Draco was prepared. He tugged her arm, pulling her closer to his body.

"I can't imagine what he sees in you," he whispered in her ear, voice husky and devious. She smirked, unmoved as she responded.

"The same things you do, I suppose."

"Hardly," Draco scoffed, wrinkled forming on his forehead. "Do you claim to be the same person around him that you are around me?"

Max seemed to freeze for a moment, considering this. Fear was written briefly in her features before she composed them, a split-second of weakness. It was as if Draco had hit a sliver of truth Max hadn't known he'd known. Perhaps she was a completely different person around Potter. Draco's stomach churned, his heart burning with curiosity. He wondered what that looked like. He wondered how the girl before him could ever transform into "Potter's perfect girl."

"It doesn't matter. I've got him right where I want him," Max mumbled, biting her lip nervously. Draco laughed, though it wasn't genuine. It felt sort of nice to see Max squirm a bit when he felt so high himself. The power had shifted, if only for a moment.

"Do you?" he mused. "Have you retrieved the information the Dark Lord has asked of you yet?"

"Patience," Max snapped, narrowing her eyes and pulling away. Her chest was heaving as she crossed her arms, trying to hide something Draco wasn't even aware of. Draco responded appropriately, prodding her arms and bringing her back into him, this time closer than before.

"Has he kissed you yet?" Draco whispered, breathing his fresh scent onto her face. Her hair blew in the small wind, her eyes aloof.

"Yes."

Draco smirked, displeased. He wouldn't let that bring him down, though, as he pressed his lips against Max's. She didn't respond at first, too intimidated and confused by his actions. Draco continued to persuade her, though, trailing his hands along her body. Eventually, Max broke down and returned the kiss with as much eagerness as he.

Just as things were really beginning to heat up, Draco broke apart, a fire alit in his eyes.

"Was it half as good as that?" he inquired, brushing hair out of his face. Max was breathing heavily, her hand pressed against his chest. Slowly, she shook her head.

"No," she breathed, the sound barely audible.

"Good," Draco concluded, his smirk turning into a smile. "Never forget that."

Her silence was enough of an answer for him.


	47. Messes of Men

Sometimes, though Max did not like to admit it, she didn't know how to accomplish the things her master asked of her. He assured her success and demanded her trust, but every once in a while Max had trouble stifling her doubts. Tonight, unfortunately, wad one if those times. News had gotten around surprisingly fast, and by now a good chunk of the wizarding world knew of Harry Potter's new alleged Death Eater girlfriend. Of course, Max should have expected as much. It seemed that lately everyone was far too interested in the life of The Boy Who Lived. It was almost amusing.

However, when Max's father sent her a letter requesting she be in the Slytherin common room at precisely three forty-two in the morning Max was a little skeptical. She could only expect that somebody-Voldemort, if she dared-wished to speak with her about her new "relationship." How they were to accomplish this, however, was beyond her. What if somebody were to walk in and witness the conversation? Max's whole cover would be blown. She knew Voldemort had powers beyond her wildest imagination, but not even he could control the actions of a whole house thousands of miles away from him. He couldn't imperio a quarter of the school.

Also, Max was wondering what she was to tell him. She couldn't think of a way he'd be upset with her going out with Harry Potter, but what if he expected more from her now? Despite all the progression, Max still had little useful to tell him. Clearly her Lord had been gracious, allowing her as much time as she needed, but it couldn't be said how long that would last. The future was always so unclear for Max.

She'd tried to share her concerns with Draco, but Max was finding it harder and harder to fully confide in her true boyfriend. She'd become scarily afraid of his judgments upon her. While he'd stopped arguing with her over Harry, there had been more subtle ways of rebellion and disapproval. Max found she felt hesitant to share her days with him, even if he asked. Draco was never this polite, and it was always a bad sign for him to start.

Max was obedient, though. She spent the whole day trying to carefully pry something out of Harry, but only received bits and pieces. He was too focused on other things, such as the blissfully honeymoon-like stage of their relationship. He'd spent the whole day holding her hand, planting small kisses on her nose, and showing her off to all his friends. Why Harry could possibly ever be proud to have Max as a girlfriend, she would never know. All she knew was that she sort of liked the way he treated her.

Albeit, there was some secondhand embarrassment when Harry got mushy on her, but for the most part it felt nice to be loved and cared for. He doted upon her endlessly, deluded into thinking she was something she was not. Max didn't quite understand how she did it, but somehow she'd made the boy fall for her without even trying. There was just something so magical about it, almost making the whole thing sinister. Max had half a mind to think somebody had cursed him. A boy like Harry Potter truly caring for a girl like Max Connors was unprecedented.

She tried not to think about it, though, instead focusing on more pressing matters at hand. She'd told Draco that afternoon via letter to be extra careful about who was allowed in the common room after three. Draco held power, something Max found came in handy often. She trusted, despite her grandest efforts, that he would save her from anything negative that might take place that night. Trust did not come easy for Max, but she attempted it anyway. It was her only choice.

That evening Max said goodbye to Harry, carefully placing a light kiss on his lips. Her arms wrapped around his torso, his own limbs engulfing her in his mass. His hand rested on the back of her head, fingers running through her long black strands of hair. Harry's lips were chapped, a direct contrast to Draco's smooth ones. Somehow he found a way to be gentle, though, caressing her in ways that occasionally drove Max crazy. She didn't care to admit that, though, and often had to forcefully detach herself from Harry.

"Sleep well," Harry whispered, kissing her once more on the cheek. Max's cheeks tinted red, a strange smile on her face. Her stomach churned, knowing she would probably be getting no sleep tonight. Harry would never know that though. Sometimes his ignorance was astonishing.

"I'll try," she promised him anyway, laughing awkwardly. Harry nodded in acceptance, taking the moment to hold her gaze before turning around and walking away. Harry was quite polite to walk Max to her dorm like this, especially when it meant he had to walk all the way back to his own common room on his own. Max could never be as selfless as that, even in such petty matters.

Max watched Harry until he was completely out of site, her eyes directly following his every movement. His steps were lazy and uneven, much like Harry's demeanor. His hair seemed more disheveled from the back, and though Max could only see such she could imagine the way his glasses would lay crooked on his nose. His green eyes would shine brightly in the darkness, the same eyes that had haunted Max for years. Max laughed at the thought, considering how strange it was the way things were.

Eventually Harry faded into the darkness, and feeling a bit discontent Max turned to walk into her own common room. Draco was waiting for her patiently, reading a book as he lay on the couch. Max plopped down beside him, saying nothing as she laced her own fingers together, twiddling her thumbs. Draco didn't look up.

"How was your day?" she asked him in a desperate attempt for conversation intended to avoid the subject at hand.

"The same as most other days," Draco shrugged, setting down the book and leaning forward. "Are you ready?"

"Not really," Max admitted, looking sheepish. She pleaded with Draco silently to understand and offer his guidance, but he did not such thing. Draco's tolerance had gone down considerably recently. His eyes softened a bit, the wrinkles on his forehead fading for a moment. His hand reached out to touch hers, but it did not rest there.

"Good luck," he wished her before stepping aside and moving towards the stairs. Part of Max wanted to ask him to stay by her side, but she forced herself into silence. For some reason she had little evidence to believe Draco would ever stand by her side the same again. Once again she was reminded of how it didn't matter how much Draco assured her he wasn't bothered by their current situation, things had changed. Though nothing had been voiced, the moment when Max accepted the title of Harry's girlfriend had changed anything.

Max wanted to prove to him and herself where her allegiances truly lay, though. She wasn't quite sure how to do it. Nothing seemed to get past Draco's walls, and Max was much too distracted with other aspects of life to sit and ponder on how to do it. She couldn't handle all this pressure and responsibility. Max had to focus on one thing at a time, take each day as it game, while trying not to forget about the future too much. It was a hard line to walk on.

Max sat on the seats in the common room, staring at the fire in front of her. She kept her posture straight, hands folded, as she waited patiently for her master to contact her. Still unsure of how it was to be done, Max's stomach twisted and turned awkwardly. She hated feeling nervous like this, and felt bitter that she'd allowed somebody to do this to her. The more involved she became, the less glamorous Death Eater life was.

Finally, before Max could blink, a plain, black bird swooped into her lap and dropped a letter before leaving. Max looked around the room before tearing the envelope open, eyes gazing upon the black, curvy words that lay there. She gulped.

_Be prepared._

The fire crackled before her and Max looked up, gasping at the face of Lord Voldemort himself. Her eyes were wide and heart stuttering. It was almost too ludicrous to believe.

"M-Master," she stammered, leaning forward in awe. The Dark Lord smiled, licking his lips. His eyes seemed to narrow even more than they already were, his voice coming out crackly as he spoke.

"Good Evening, Connors," he greeted. His face flickered in the fire and Max took the moment to regain her composure. Of course he would reach her this way. It was completely logical. Max didn't bother to consider that the fireplaces might be watched. If anybody was doing so, it would be Lord Voldemort himself. These days he was in control of most things, including over half of the ministry.

"The same goes for you, master. How are you?" she asked, offering him her best smile.

"Let us not waste time with petty talk," he brushed her off, a frown forming on his face. It looked more like a sneer, really, but Max had prided herself in doing something short of memorizing his facial expressions.

"What is it you have come here for?" Max hissed, trying to keep her voice low and calm. It was not wise to aggravate one's master.

"I've heard about the progress you've made with Potter. Is there any news you'd like to tell me?"

"Um," Max winced, berating herself for stuttering. Showing weakness was not a habit she would like to pick up. "Not yet. I'm working on it, though. It just…takes time."

"I'm concerned about you, Connors," Voldemort announced, glaring. His voice was rough and dangerous, causing sweat to beat down Max's back. She feared his reactions and the punishments that would follow.

"Why?" she murmured. "I told you-"

"Do not backtalk!" he yelled, rattling the coals that burned redder than before. "I fear you're growing too close to Potter," he continued.

"I'm not," Max assured him, not bothering to think about whether it was true or not. "I hate him just as much as you, sir."

"Do not lie to me," Voldemort ordered. "Do not pretend I don't know about the past you share with the boy. You were chosen for this task for a purpose, but do not let that strength become a weakness."

"Of course," Max whispered, hanging her head in shame. She bit her lip, feeling smaller than she'd ever felt in her life. She didn't turn her eyes to the Dark Lord's again, instead listening to his instructions.

"It's good that you've grown this close to him, but now is a time for action. I expect more from you now. Do not think of Potter as your boyfriend. Remember where your loyalties lie. Potter is no friend of yours, much less more."

"I know that," Max told him, staring at the ground. Her dark hair fell over her face, masking her expression from her master. She wondered if he could read her mind through the fire, and she instantly attempted to clear it. Max was never skilled in occlumency, though. She liked to pretend she was good at it, but too often did Max lose control of her thoughts. Unwanted images and emotions had a knack for flooding back into her focus in the hardest of times.

"Act like it," Voldemort finished. "I'll be coming back in contact with you soon, and when I do I expect things to have changed."

With that the fire flashed green before fading into small sparks. Max stood still for a moment, taking everything in as her brain caught up with what had just happened. Finally she exhaled loudly, leaning back against the couch and laying her head against the soft cushions.

Even Lord Voldemort could see through her. Neither he nor Draco could believe that she could successfully complete the mission without getting emotionally attached. She would fight for her strength, though, arguing with them every time. Max felt nothing for Harry Potter, and the only reason they were even on speaking terms was because of Voldemort. She could do this; she'd known she could from the beginning.

Max did not even consider the possibility that Draco and Voldemort were right, though. In years time when she looked back on this piece of her life, Max would have wished she would though. For now she ignored what was right in front of her eyes, but it would not last long. Taking one of the easier ways out, Max thought about how Voldemort had found out so much of her life.

Who, exactly, was informing him of her daily activities? Or was he just that powerful that he could tell when her walls were crumbling?

With a shiver Max fell asleep, her mind restless as she dreamt of her previous conversation. She promised herself she'd figure things out tomorrow, or at least find out the truth about what was going on with her. Even if she couldn't give it herself.


	48. Surrounded

Max Connors was not one to waste time with flustered thoughts and unexpected impulses. She was a thinker, outlining ever detail of her actions long before she did them. Every word was spoken with careful precision, even movement analyzed so that she never gave wrong impressions or body language. Ever since her birth, Max had been so preoccupied with what others thought of her she would go to any extent to please them.

Even if Max did not know a person she was very diligent about making sure she acted in a way that would give the stranger a certain idea about her. Towards most of the school Max wanted to be stone cold and fierce. Towards Harry she wanted to be kind and afraid. Towards Draco she wanted to be stubborn and in control. Towards her father she was fairly submissive and diligent. Max was constantly watching herself in order to make sure she kept up these appearances, and very rarely did she ever falter.

That morning was a different case, though. Max hadn't bothered with appearances at all; her hair was tattered and clothes a mess. She couldn't stand the cold of the common room, finding herself claustrophobic in the dungeons. Max moved quickly as she exited the castle, disregarding any teachers who spoke of class or homework. Not much when her mind was so busy.

She found herself by the lake, but couldn't sit still now that she'd found a destination. Her mind was too filled with worry over last night's encounter with Voldemort. There was just no way she could forget about it, or ignore the way her skin was itching with something she couldn't describe. That's why Max found herself pacing by the water, wringing her hands together and glaring holes at the ground.

That's where Max worked herself up, walking faster and faster with each step, but never really going anywhere. She replayed the conversation over and over again in her mind, breaking down every word and expression she could make out. She became flustered, losing control and stumbling over small rocks lodged in the damp grass.

The main concern was not that Voldemort was losing faith in her, though that was something to think about. The problem was that he could have not gotten these ideas on his own. Voldemort, though intelligent and great, was not around to observe Max. He could make safe assumptions from afar, but on his own there wasn't much to be said. That meant that somebody-and Max had a good idea who-was speaking with him.

The main concern in this whole situation was that Draco was falling away from her. Some of the same things that had come from Voldemort's mouth had also come from Draco's, making it painfully obvious that the blonde boy had been sharing his opinions with their master. To make things worse, he'd been sharing his opinions about her, and they'd all been negative.

Every single doubt Draco might have had he'd told Voldemort, probably on strict orders. They were coming together behind her back, without her, and in the end it was not to help. None of them wanted the best for her, and very slowly they were complicating her plans, if not ruining them.

The whole thought of it only caused Max to become more irate as she began pacing faster, wishing she could just walk right off this earth and release all her anger. She didn't even care that small first years were giving her looks of fear and questioning as they spent their free period in the outdoors. She was mumbling angrily to herself, shaking her head as she thought was her plan of action would.

Max couldn't just let this go. Something had to be done and quickly, less Draco ruin everything once and for all. She couldn't understand why he couldn't just be content with the good she was doing for the cause. He had to meddle and get involved, leading all those that mattered to false conclusions.

Max had to face him, and it was tedious waiting until nightfall when they could safely converse. Albeit, it would not be strange for them to be arguing in the daylight, but Max didn't feel like causing a scene. She didn't want Harry to ask any more questions that he already would. It was just about all she could take.

It was as Max paced about, thinking over the words she might say to Draco later that night, that Harry found her. There was a sort of strange expression on his face as he evaluated the almost comical sight before him. He'd never seen Max in such a strop before, and pieces of him wanted to laugh and tease her. Instinctively, he knew this was a bad idea, and instead chose to grab her arm and stop her.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, eyebrows raised. Max snapped her neck up to look at him, shocked out of her reverie. It took a moment for her register who he was and what she was supposed to be doing.

"What does it look like?" she retorted with a scowl, painfully reminding Harry of his previous six years with her. Above all, he wished Max would quit being so grumpy. There _was_ something to be said for Max being honest with instead of pretending, as he might have expected, but he just wished she could be happy.

Whenever one of Harry's friends got together there was this stage after the initial seal of a kiss that was pure bliss. They were always together, always laughing, always touching or kissing. He'd not yet gotten that with Max, though. She'd been distant, still, and nothing seemed to have changed since before. He didn't want to have to force anything upon her, and he didn't expect for them to be the perfect couple he'd seen in Draco and Max, but he hadn't expected this.

"Max," Harry consoled, running his hand down her arm and interlacing fingers. Her expression seemed to soften and she slowly exhaled, coming back down to earth from wherever she had been. Harry offered her a smile.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, shaking her head and rubbing her thumb along his hand.

"Tell me what's bothering you," Harry pleaded, his green eyes smoldering as he made an attempt to console her. Max debating lying to him, but found she didn't want to. It was dangerous to tell the truth, in a sense, but Max could be careful. She could hold in her emotions.

"Draco."

"Oh," Harry said darkly, narrowing his eyes. "He bothers the best of us."

"I don't want to think about him any longer," she declared, biting her lip. For this Harry was grateful. He was painfully aware of the past Max shared with his worst enemy and did not feel it was appropriate for her to be thinking of him when they'd just gotten together. He was surprisingly desperate to hold on to Max, but she was like butter, always slipping out of his hands.

"That's a good idea," Harry agreed. "I don't like it when you're unhappy."

Max laughed, as if to please him with her smile. He mimicked the action leaning in to press his lips to hers. She responded eagerly, more so than he'd expected, wrapping her arms around his neck and twirling his black locks in her fingertips. Her touch sent shivers down his spine, her lips rough against his own. It was so different kissing her. With Ginny it had been soft and gentle, full of love and care, but with Max she was rough and passionate. Harry felt himself filled with emotion, never faking a second of it.

Max was tantalizing, sending bits of magic and warmth all over his body as she pressed herself against him. A strange sensation seemed to be taking place in his mouth, warm and cold all at the same time. He couldn't quite explain it, nor could he decide whether he liked it or not. Something similar was happening where her hand met his skin, though, a sort of spark going off wherever they touched.

Suddenly, Max pulled away, finding herself out of breath and flushed with color. Harry blinked, stepping back as he noticed that familiar glow about her skin as he'd seen when she was angry. His eyes widened behind his glasses as he struggled to burn the memory in his brain before it slipped away, the light seeping back into her skin.

Harry was almost completely sure something strange and different was going on with Max by now, and he wondered if that was what he was feeling when they kissed. He wondered if Max knew yet, or even cared enough to know. Max's priorities never matched up to Harry's, he was quickly finding.

"What is it?" she asked, noticing that he was just staring and not speaking. She didn't seem pleased with his silence, that worried wrinkle having returned in her forehead. She wasn't calm anymore, that moment far gone, and instead the wheels in her head had gone back to turning. Max could only go so long without thinking.

"You just look very pretty in the light," Harry fibbed, not wanting to bring up the subject. It wasn't that it wasn't true, Max's appearance just wasn't what was on his mind at the moment. Max smirked anyway where any other girl would have blushed, believing him. She wasted no time in taking his hand, pulling him towards the castle.

"Let's go inside. It's cold," she suggested, returning back to her content self. It was so strange that the moment Harry had dragged Max away from her distractions he became preoccupied with thoughts himself.

He just couldn't get the image of her glow-for he had no other name for it-out of his mind.

]--[

Max waited patiently for Draco to find her, bottling up all she had to say to him until the correct moment. She wondered briefly if he was avoiding her, but what reason would he have? He did not know she was angry at him, nor did he think anything had changed. Unless, of course, he had spoken to his father or master that day Draco should be anxious to hear what had happened.

"There you are," she huffed when he finally arrived, looking frazzled. Max crossed her arms, her face hot with annoyance as she glared at him. Draco seemed adamant, though, sturdy and complacent as usual.

"Sorry I can't meet up to her punctual standards," he retorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes. It was amazing how quickly the tension in the room had affected them. Max wouldn't have anything he was saying, though, intent on getting straight to the point.

"Why didn't you tell you were so involved?" she demanded, stepping forward to get a better look at him, hoping she might be able to pick up some truth from his expression that he did not express in his words.

"Involved in what? Please don't tell me you're going to be crazy again."

"With You-Know-You. I know you've been corresponding with him," she announced, pursing her lips. Draco didn't speak at first, debating whether it would be easier to lie or tell the truth.

"I have done no such thing, and even so, would you berate me for obeying our master?" he asked her, eyebrow raised in defiance. Max scowled, unmoved and still driven by her emotions. No explanation Draco could give could dissolve her anger; all she wanted to do was release it on him.

"Our master is now displeased with me because of you. You could have cost me everything!" she shrieked, eyes wide as saucers.

"_I_ could have cost _you_ everything?" Draco scoffed, almost sounding amused. Perhaps, had he not been so angry, he might have laughed. "What about all the damage you might cause everyday? You play it off as if it's nothing, but you risk everything every moment you spend with Potter. Who's to say you haven't switched sides now?"

A great wind swept through the room, Max's hair swirling around with it as it circled her, almost like a scene from a movie. Her eyes began glazed over, her pupils outlined in a bright green. Max took no notice, however, and the strange appearance did not even register in Draco's mind just yet.

"I have _not_ switched sides and I do not appreciate you trying to tell the world that I have! I should not be punished and watched for my obedience; _I thought we were done with this argument!" _

"I'm worried about you. I know you don't think this, but it was my only choice. It was the only way to secure that you'd keep a straight head and not get swept up in Gryffindor nonsense," Draco tried to explain, his voice lowering. This only caused Max's to rise higher though, the cold wind pushing hard against Draco.

"Gryffindor nonsense? What gives you the impression that I might ever fall for something like that?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes into slits. Her skin was paling, her knuckled turning white as she clutched them in fury. That same, strange, magic was seeping from her pours, slowly making it's way towards the victim.

"Because we all do! I did once, too, back in first year. I'm not foolish enough to focus on it, though. I've moved on and I just hope you can too."

"Why can't you just trust me, Draco? When have I ever given you the impression that I can't handle this? I'm in control!" she yelled, almost losing herself in the words and emotion. Maybe she was becoming more like a Gryffindor, or maybe that day had just been an off day. She found herself acting before thinking, a trait that she was not accustom to. It was so like Harry that she fear he was rubbing off on her, though she did not voice this allowed. She had no need to prove any of Draco's conspiracy theories right.

"Because you've given me no reason to trust you, Connors," Draco seethed, leaning in closer. "You're a liar and you know it. Never once have a felt like I really know the truth and I'm sick of it. I won't take the risk you do. I-"

"I'm not lying!" Max yelled, not even bothering to think about the lie that that was. It'd become second nature by now, but her fury blinded her.

"You are!" Draco countered, and it was just those two words that sent Max over the edge. She stepped forward, the green glow pouring from her veins and through her fingertips, almost like an explosion.

It was powerful magic, more so than Draco had ever seen in his life. It was the color of Max, almost smelling like her. Had he been able to taste it, it probably would have tasted of Max too. From the moment he noticed that something strange was happening, he knew it was all Max. This was pure Max and a different form.

And it caused all hell to break loose, if only for a moment.

The magic rushed from her fingertips, her body losing control and in one final moment her pupils flashed green, the light shining brighter than the sun and it released. Draco moved quicker than he ever had before, just barely dodging the most of it. It skimmed his arm, though, tearing his clothes as a large gash formed on his skin and blood dripped to the ground.

A crash was heard behind him, where the beam had hit the wall and the pieces came crumbling down. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, yelping in pain as he clutched his wound. He keeled over, becoming dizzy as he heard Max's moan from in front of him.

Desperate to figure out what was going on, Draco opened his eyes to see Max wavering on the spot. The glow lingered around her body for a moment longer before finally returning to into skin, though it did not fade completely. Draco could already tell Max was not the same as she had been before.

She looked weak, though, her eyes alit with fear and shock as she stared straight ahead where the wreckage had been caused. She leaned against the wall, using it for support as she breathed heavily, clearly distraught. Swallowing, Max turned her eyes to Draco, though her expression did not change.

"You-" he started, but she shook her head, rigid and frozen in her spot.

"I-" she tried to speak, but could not.

"What is this?" Draco demanded, wincing as he tried in vain to keep his arm from bleeding too painfully. Max blinked, her voice hoarse and limbs loose. She looked truly broken, something Draco had never seen before.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean-"

"Shh!" she gasped, rushing over to him and touching his shoulder. "Please-I-you can't…I don't," she struggled with the words, squeezing her eyes shut in pain. Draco wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too afraid. He'd never seen anything like this before.

"Max-"

"Don't tell anyone," she pleaded, looking him straight in the eye. "I promise I'll…I'll talk to you later. I have to go…I don't know…Please…"she trailed off, turning on her heal and rushing down the corridor in the opposite direction.

Draco scoffed, not failing to notice that she didn't even bother to double check if he was alright. It was so like Max to forget about everybody but herself, running away the moment things got too difficult. It didn't matter what she'd told him. Draco might keep her secret, whatever this was, but only with the promise that the truth would come soon.

Draco stood, sighing painfully once more.

It really was too bad that by now Max's promises meant nothing to him.


	49. Unknown

Max didn't care that it was late at night. She couldn't go back to her common room, nor could she face anybody in her house. Her memory became a broken record, replaying that same event over and over again. She didn't know what had happened. One minute she was yelling at Draco, getting angrier and angrier, and the next she just lost control.

Max was familiar with the feeling of anger. She'd frequently get annoyed and recognized the hot feeling that surged through her body whenever somebody really pissed her off. She'd been careful about watching herself, though, never truly losing control. She'd ignored by default the strange feeling that echoed around her fingertips or the way her eyes would sometimes get fuzzy. There had always been more important things to focus on than herself.

Max hadn't noticed anything different at first when she'd argued with Draco. She'd been feeling so many things at once, including anger, fear, and chagrin. The emotions were almost overwhelming and Max was tired of bottling them up. She was ready for the release, but she'd thought it would come in the form of yelling and venting at Draco. Draco was stubborn, though, and he'd drifted from her. It wasn't as safe as it had been before, not that anything about Max's situation was safe at all.

Suddenly she just couldn't take it anymore. Her body physically hurt and the whole ordeal was becoming unbearable. She'd given up control and everything in that moment had broken. All she had seen was green and all she could hear was noise. She felt dizzy and weak, but strong at the same time. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the moment ended leaving rubble behind. Draco had been hurt, the castle had been injured, and Max couldn't believe her eyes. No matter which way she spun it, however, it had all been her. Something had happened to her that she couldn't explain.

She could vaguely remember speaking to Draco, but her heart was pounding so fast and her head was turning wheels that she didn't pay attention to what she was saying to him. She promised herself she'd come back to him, but there were so many things she had to deal with her. She had to understand what was happening to her, because though there had come a calm, it was no over.

Max felt different than before. Her body felt lighter, and yet more powerful. Her skin tingled with magic just waiting to come undone, and there was a chill that just wouldn't leave her alone. Ever since the explosion-or whatever it was-Max had become a different person. She could not contain herself. She had to keep moving, keep running, but there was no place to go.

Her first instinct had been to hide, or it should have been. Max had walked without really knowing where she was going, but found herself outside the Gryffindor tower. The fat lady was sleeping, though Max hadn't fully realized where she was yet. She didn't know why she felt the impulse to come here, not believing she was wanted. She settled on pacing outside the portal, trying to figure out some truth in the mess.

"Are you going to stay out here and be a nuisance or will you be coming inside?" came the shrill voice of a portrait. Max snapped out of her reverie, turning her eyes on the unattractive lady.

"I don't know the password," she retorted, narrowing her eyes before turning towards the wall, pretending to examine the detail of the castle corridor.

"Well, in that case, the least you could do is stop pacing. You're disrupting my sleep!"

"And what's a painting going to do about that? I'll do whatever I want," Max declared, her bad mood radiating from her skin. Then, with a smirk, she raised her hand and flicked her wrist in an attempt to shake off the portrait. The intent, however, did not go as planned. The fat lady screamed, her voice loud and long as the portrait flipped open easily, bearing all of Gryffindor common room for Max to see.

Gasping, Max stumbling backwards into the wall. Her eyes were wide with fear as she saw what'd she just done, the portrait now swaying in the night, the fat lady shouting unpleasantly. Not wasting any more time, Max rushed into the room, her breath ragged as she froze in the middle of the common room. She placed a hand on her heart, taking a moment to slow it down before continuing to silently tip-toe through the room.

She'd been in the common room before, with Harry, but never this late at night. She'd always devoted the moonlit hours to Draco and sleep, far away from anything relating to Harry Potter. She was surprised the find the room dim and peacefully, almost cozy in comparison to the green and black she was used to. A fire was burning faintly in the fireplace, and Max had flashbacks of Voldemort's face appearing in her own.

The layout, in general, was very similar to her own common room. She'd just never imagined this place so empty. There were usually at least a dozen students in here, chatting away happily. It seemed like such a lively place and it was strange to think of it empty, though Max had always known the students had to go to sleep at some point.

Sighing, she trudged up the stairs, thankful that there was no slide to the boys' dormitory. She hoped none of them woke up, figuring that no Gryffindor would be happy to find a strange Slytherin in the dorm late at night. Sure, most of them had gotten used to Max hanging around, but never unaccompanied by Harry and certainly not in the wee hours of the morning. Max assumed it had to be morning by now, and felt slightly guilty for waking Harry from whatever sleep he was having.

She had no choice, though. She was scared and lonely, and he was the only one she had left. She knew that he would never judge her from what had happened and what she was now able to do. Apart from her Slytherin and Death Eater background, Harry had never judged her. Even now he was always accepting and kind. Max never understood how he did it, but she didn't question something she was so thankful for.

Max squinted her eyes, leaning in the read the pointy white lettering upon the door. She double, then triple checked to make sure the letters spelled _seventh,_ not wanting to risk walking into another years' dorm. Slowly, she pressed her palm against the cold wood, pushing lightly until the door began to move. It creaked almost immediately, causing Max to backtrack and shut it again. She bit her lip, staring at the obstacle in her way, clenching and unclenching her hands.

She looked down upon her knuckles, frowning as she debated what to do next. She didn't know how heavy or light of a sleeper anybody in Harry's year was, and would not want anyone else to wake up. Closing her eyes, Max remembered the way she'd accidentally swung open a portal that was password protected. If she could do that without thinking, then surely she could gently open a simple door.

Heaving a sigh, Max raised her hand. Gently, as to not slam the door, she moved her wrist in the same fashion as before. Just as she had hoped, the door opened along with her hand. Max's jaw dropped, though she'd had an idea this would happen. She'd never known magic like this before, and was eager to see if Harry had any opinions on it. Slowly, though never slow enough, Max's fear of what she'd down was fading, replaced by excitement. Her stomach turned as she stepped across the threshold and into a world of boys.

She spotted Harry almost immediately, not having to second guess herself. She'd know Harry any day, anywhere, though she wasn't sure how. Sure, he had some defining physical characteristics, but Max knew him by more of a gut feeling. She just felt his presence.

"Harry!" she hissed into his ear, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently shaking him. Harry groaned, tossing and turning for a moment before his eyes flew open, a mass of green fear sucking her in.

"Wha-" he started, his voice far too loud for Max's taste.

"Shh!" she demanded, placing a hand over his mouth. He struggled, still not fully recognizing her. "It's Max," she clarified, removing her hand from his mouth. "Come with me."

"Why? It's late! How'd you get in here?" he whispered, glancing around the room. She rolled her eyes, impatient.

"Get your glasses and come downstairs with me, please."

"Max, is everything alright?" Harry questioned, immediately switching over into savior mode. Max exhaled loudly, crossing her arms.

"You'll just have to come downstairs to find out," she huffed, turning towards the door. "You have five minutes."

Harry wasted no time in throwing a shirt and his glasses on and thumping down the stairs. He landed in a huff at the bottom, sleepy-eyed and frowning as he saw Max gazing at the rug in front of her.

"What is it?" he questioned, sitting down and taking her hand up in his. Max sighed, blinking for a few moments. She then yanked her hand away, burying her face in her hands.

"I-" she broke off, not really knowing how to say it.

"Max," Harry consoled, placing a warm hand on her back and rubbing his thumbs across her spine. "What is it?"

"I…er," she paused, looking up at him with her strange, large eyes. "I think I can do wandless magic," she said very quickly before looking down again.

"What?" he gasped, shocked.

"I…I don't know why or how…it just…happened."

"Tell me," Harry demanded, sitting up straight and staring intently at her.

"I was…um…"Max paused, debating whether she should tell him the truth. In the end, she decided that it couldn't hurt. "I was fighting with Draco."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, sounding annoyed. "Why?"

"He's been nosey…talking to, my, uh, father. And I was just so tired of him and his stupid…everything. So I got mad."

"And?" Harry pressed.

"I…just…lost control. Something happened, my magic, like, released itself, and ever since I've been able to just…do stuff."

"Like what?"

"I could open to portal with a flick of the wrist. And your dorm door too. And…that's all."

Harry stared at her for a moment, his breathing heavy. He couldn't imagine the words that came out of her mouth, nor could he find any plausible explanation. He just stared, waiting for to tell him she was joking.

"Max, that's crazy," he finally spoke, his words slow and deep. She shook her head, biting her lip. Her eyes shone with a gloss that could resemble tears, though she squeezed them shut to prevent any from escaping. Ashamed, Max hid her face behind her hair, not looking at Harry.

"I know!" she cried. "Don't you think I know that? You think it's crazy? What about me? I'm-I'm living this!" she rambled before shooting her hand out, turning it slightly to the left and toppling over a vase that had been lying on the table in front of them. She hadn't known how she could do it, or why something she'd never experienced before came so naturally. It was addicting, though, and Max knew she could never stop.

Harry gasped, his eyes wide behind his glasses as realization dawned on him. He'd always noticed something strange about Max, especially when she became angry. It had been one of the ways Harry knew he had to cool her off. Perhaps it was all connected, this green glow that possessed Max into something beyond that which Harry could ever imagined.

"Max, look at me," Harry pleaded, placing a finger under her chin. "It's okay."

With sad eyes she turned her gaze upon him, her lip wobbling in fear. Her eyes, once a piercing blue, shown of vibrant green, death staring Harry in the face. Her skin was pale, pitch black hair draping around her heart-shaped face. Her lips were dark ruby, puffed from pouting and wrinkled from one too many frowns. It was beautiful, to Harry, as he pressed his own lips against hers, but at the same time it wasn't completely human. Max Connors had never been normal, of course, but there was something so wrong that Harry couldn't put his finger on…something…but Max was speaking again, pulling him away from his thoughts.

"Don't tell," she whimpered, taking his hand and squeezing tight. "Whatever you do, don't tell, at least not until I figure this out. Please, Harry, I trust you."


	50. Confessions

It had been three days since Max's _incident,_ and she had not spoken to Draco since. To be quite frank, Max hadn't really spoken to anybody. It wasn't that much of a change from before, but Max just made that extra effort to stay in recluse. She settled with following Harry around like a lost puppy, holding his hand and sinking into his arms whenever human contact came around. The morning after she'd showed him what she could do, Harry suggested sending a letter to her father. At first Max had been opposed to the idea, but by the end of the day she complied; there was nothing left to lose.

Max was sitting in Harry's arms, edging away at a potions essay when she got the owl in return. Trained well, it didn't linger for responses or treats, dropping the small envelope and flying away. Noticing that Harry was too intently focusing on his homework, Max attempted to throw the envelope away in her bag until further notice. She didn't want to deal with it in his company, fearing that he might let something slip. Harry was having one of that, though.

"You aren't going to open it?" he questioned without looking up. Frowning, he scratched away at something, a wrinkle of concentration forming on his face as he attempted to have a conversation while working. Max let a small smile form on her face, noticing how cute he looked. Despite her intentions, it could not be denied how attracted to Harry she felt. Subconsciously, she snuggled closer into his body. He was warm and smelled good.

"I'm afraid I shouldn't," she confessed, placing her essay down beside her. Carefully, she laced her fingers through Harry's free hand, pecking him no the cheek as he chewed thoughtfully on his quill. Harry glanced up at her, a pleased glint in his eye. Max had been expecting worry, or at least something fairly negative, but Harry only offered her smiles.

She was surprised as how accepting he'd been of the whole thing. She feared her difference would cause him to become scared and reject her. Max was already enough to handle as it was; she didn't want to cause Harry more strife. Surely he wouldn't stick around if the benefits weren't greater than the sacrifices. Yet, he made no judgments upon her. He was, in fact, just as curious and interested as Max was. Albeit, he wasn't nearly as anxious as she was, but he was empathetic. Harry had told her he was different too, and he understood.

"Why? Whatever in that letter doesn't change anything, you know. It just explains what already is," Harry pointed out, eyebrow raised as his glasses fell down his nose a bit. Max laughed bitterly, taking the moment to adjust them.

"The truth isn't always a good thing, Harry," she said quietly, casting her eyes towards the distance. Harry made a grunt of annoyance, dismissing the thought, but it traveled with Max further. She pursed her lips, knowing the far worse implications behind her statement. Harry would never understand how the truth weighed Max down, even when she didn't know all of it. Honestly, finding out that there was more to her than she thought was almost overbearing.

"Well I think you should open it. Just watching you is making _me_ anxious," Harry teased, wrapping an arm around her and burying his head her hair, lips pressed against her ear. She could feel his easy breathe tickling her neck, sending chills down her spine. Max frowned.

"Haven't you ever heard of the saying ignorance is bliss?" she countered, quirking an eyebrow. Harry laughed, causing Max to smile as he pressed his lips lightly against hers. Max was baffled at how relaxed Harry made her feel. Despite all that she hid from him, she never found herself having to struggle with their relationship. It was the most natural thing she'd ever experienced in ways Max would never be able to explain. Normally, Max should be worrying her forehead off with wrinkles, but already Harry was softening the hardest parts of her.

"I don't believe that," Harry concluded. "Even if it hurts, I'd always like to know the truth. I hate having things kept from me, and it always makes it that much worse when the truth finally does come out," Harry told her, his brain traveling back to his fifth year. Max sighed, not fully understanding where he was coming from. His words struck a cord in her heart, though. Another question without an answer.

"You're right," she sighed, slumping her shoulders as she turned towards the letter, ripping it open and reading slowly. Harry watched her patiently, running fingers through her hair. Max leaned back against the chair, inhaling the scent of Gryffindor and Harry.

"What does it say?" Harry finally asked as she folded the letter and placed it in her lap.

"He wants to meet with me. He's organized for me to be let out of class for an afternoon to speak with him. Apparently, McGonagall took some persuading, but she finally allowed it. It's not like she can deny a father his child," Max explained.

"Huh," Harry mumbled. "That's a start."

"I wish I didn't have to face him alone," Max confessed, closing her eyes. She twiddled her thumbs together, feeling the magic spark between her fingers. It was amazing how quickly she'd grown accustom to this strange new feeling of magic. Admittedly, she was still struggling to keep things subtle and under control. The balance was immensely difficult, especially as Max found that the easier wandless magic-or whatever this was-became, the more difficult using a wand was. She was already struggling in charms class, and it was coming to the point where Max was sure she'd have to cheat to pass her classes.

It wasn't like she could just perform her strange magic in front of the public, either. Even if she did work everything out with the school and her father, the attention was not something she wanted. She was already walking on thin ice around Hogwarts, and the added rumors would surely not assist her case.

"He's your dad. You'll be fine," Harry assured her with a confident nod. Max didn't respond, knowing that he didn't understand. The image Harry held of parents was far different than anything Max could ever find in one. Had they been alive, Max was sure Harry's parents would be everything he wished for and more. Max had heard the stories. They were good people, kind and nurturing towards those they loved. It was something Max had accepted long ago that she could never experience.

]--[

After lunch the next afternoon Max was taken too an empty classroom near the headmaster's office where her father waited for her. He'd requested that no one else be within hearing proximity of the place, and with a grimace McGonagall left them alone. Max kept her expression complacent as she sat down in an empty desk, looking upon her father as if he were a stranger.

"I want answers," she demanded, being the first to speak. She didn't want to waste time with meaningless word she didn't need, but instead wanted to be strong and in control. Her father had been keeping secrets from her and that wasn't something Max could stand for. Now that the truth was out she wanted all of it.

"I apologize for not having told you this sooner," started Nate Connors, his words extremely out of character. "I was hoping it would not have to come to this."

"Come to what, exactly? What's going on here? I haven't even really explained what has happened; what exactly do you know that I don't?" she pressed, narrowing her eyes.

"I knew your mother," Nate finally spoke, his words echoing throughout the room loud and clear. Max could almost feel her jaw drop. She'd never spoken of her mother before, especially not with her father. The subject was forbidden among the household, and Max had never been given to chance to ask anybody about her. She'd never really been given a reason to. In her mind, her mother was never something that she should be concerned about; she was dead and gone. It didn't affect the way things were now.

"And?" Max choked out, finding that she was struggling with her words. She couldn't understand the broken look on her father's face. Emotions so weakening were never common in his life. Max had only ever seen her father as a cold, hard man with little to love. His compassion and care was foreign, and imaging that he might have actually felt something for a women was strange. Max didn't have to question that he did, though; she could see it on his face.

"You shall listen to me without interruption," Nate ordered, gaining composure as he heaved a deep sigh. "I shall not be speaking of this more than once, and am only doing so because it has been ordered of me. It must be done. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Max whispered, though she really didn't.

"Your mother-Anna-she was an honest woman. She was a good woman. She was wholesome, kept her promises, and always clear about what she thought and what she felt. She was an honest woman," Nate repeated, his eyes flashing with emotion. This struck Max as odd; how could such an honest woman birth a child like herself? How could she marry a man like Nate Connors?

"Oh," Max exhaled, leaning back in her chair.

"We cared for each other very deeply. I always knew it was her that I was to marry. We were together near the end of our seventh year, and after we graduated I wasted no time in proposing. It was an elegant and honored event. Anna was not the first of her friends to become engaged, nor was she the last. She was, perhaps, the most important. Our engagement was the one that mattered most of all our peers, and it was no question that it was because of her. The Connors name may be respected, but not in the way that Anna was. Anna was special.

"It was the night that I proposed that I found out why. Anna was a half-breed, though she kept it a secret throughout all of her years at school. It was the only secret she held and the only cause of regret I ever had for being with her. I resented her for not telling me sooner, and I resented what she was. I could not leave her, for she had now forced me into something with her. For the most part I did not object, with the exception of when I was reminded of what she was."

"What was she?" Max blurted, her mouth dry. She felt dizzy, though she was sitting down, and her heart was beating faster and faster with the moment. She felt so much and could barely comprehend all the information she was hearing about a woman who might as well have been a stranger.

"I said do not interrupt!" Nate snapped, slamming his hand down on the desk. Max recoiled, nodding as she waited for him to continue. "Your mother's great grandmother was a full fledged hybrid breed of faerie. I've never bothered with names, but even they were not truly excepted in the culture of faeries. Veela blood ran through her veins, mixing with the magic that came from her ancestors and creating a great power that was both feared and rejected.

"The whole species was female, so that there were only a few amount of the pure breed. Many went on to marry faeries, passing the gene down until it was eventually overpowered by the faerie magic. Because of this it has disappeared for the most part. However, there were those like your great, great grandmother who married wizards. Most of the faerie magic trickled out, but never completely. It was stronger than that.

"It was because of this that I have always wanted a son. I was so ashamed to be the husband of such a strange magical creature, even if for the most part she was normal. We researched and I knew the gene could only pass through females.

"I begged to the heavens for a son from that day on. I hoped that if only we could produce a male the curse would fade with your mother. We could live a life of normalcy. The secret would stay hidden forever. The healers even told of we were to have a boy. I became exited, more pleased than I had ever been in my life. The birth of my son was approaching fast and everything was going according to plan.

"The healers were wrong, though. Instead of the boy I'd always dreamed for I received you," he paused, spitting out the words like venom. Hate burned in his eyes, and Max's heart cracked as she remembered just how much he despised her. "Everything changed from that day on."

"Why keep me?" Max cried, forcing tears back from her eyes. She was chewing on her lip, her face contorting into all sorts of painful expressions. "If you hated me that much you should have…it would have been better than pretending. This. Whatever this is."

"I hope you are not under the impression that I ever intended to keep you. It was Anna I wanted to rid myself of, but the daughter she'd brought us. When our master was informed of the birth, though, he commanded I let you live. He had great plans in the making, though he did not inform me of them. To this day I still have no idea the extent of the Dark Lord's knowledge."

"So that's it?" Max snapped, standing up. "I've inherited some crazy magic from my dead that hasn't decided to show up until now?"

"It is far more complicated than that and you know it. I have no patience to explain this to you. I have no desire to stay here any longer," Nate Connors announced, rising from his own seat. He nodded his head in goodbye, turning towards the door and slamming it on his way out.

Max stared after him, her mouth wide open. She felt so lost, still so confused. He may have explained the reason behind her abilities, but she still knew nothing about them. He would never explain what he did know, if anything. Max was left to figure out her powers on her own. She had no idea what she was becoming and why it was happening now.

All Max knew was that there was no way to stop it. Because of this she placed her foot down, vowing to learn more. She would not become like the person her father was. She would not reject this strange new thing thrust upon her, and perhaps because of it she could become better at everything she already did.

Blindly, Max stepped forward, hoping for the best in her future. There was so much to learn, and as Max left the room she took on a new persona. There was so much more for her to become, and Max was not wasting anytime. The future was starting now.


	51. As You Are

Max felt strangely alive as she returned to her normal life, unsurprised at how nothing had changed. As she entered the Great Hall for dinner she was careful to note that not one student was affected or even aware of everything that was going on in her life. Max was different, or at least now conscious of how she was different, but this didn't bother her. She always knew she was special, and truthfully this answered many questions she'd had about her life.

The information was delicate, though, and Max knew she should only share it with those who needed to know. There weren't many people in Max's life that she held close, and after thinking about it she knew there was nobody that needed to know that didn't already. Max could have been content with this decision to keep quiet, but she couldn't seem to suppress the urge to talk about it. It was a strange feeling, but not one Max appreciated.

If there was one person she wanted to share this part of her with it was Harry. She knew he would never judge her for this, for he was special too. He was different, never quite fit in, and they could relish that feeling together. Max knew he would help and comfort her; he would understand better than anybody else she could think of. He would never use her for her abilities, and wouldn't let her strange magic scare him.

It bothered Max that she was so reliant on this relationship, though. Her desire to be with him had grown by the day, and it didn't take a genius to realize how horrible this was. Max was supposed to assist in the death of Harry Potter, not enjoy spending lazy afternoons with him. She couldn't let Draco be right about her. She was not cast under the Potter spell, and would not lose sight of what her main goal was.

At the same time Max knew she could never share who she truly was with Draco. What once had been a close relationship had cracked, and Max knew they would never be the same again. The two of them were walking on thin ice, and Max didn't want to bring on the weight that would break it. She had no idea what Draco would think of her this newfound knowledge, and was more than hesitant to find out. Lying was dangerous business, after all.

That was where the problem lay, though. There was something so wrong and ironic about her being able to tell the enemy something she could not even tell her own boyfriend. Then again, Harry was her boyfriend too. She couldn't deny the part of her that liked that, even more so than the part of her that was devoted to Draco. She knew where her allegiances lay, but that didn't mean the lines didn't blur. Currently, the lines were blurred so much that Max could hardly make them out.

The answers were never in black and white, and the more Max thought about it the more she realized she had to stop thinking. By doing so she was only getting herself in trouble, ruining all the chances she'd been given. Max was learning to take careful action, reevaluating everything she thought was true.

"There you are," Harry whispered as Max sat down beside him. He wrapped a steady arm around her wait, his eyes careful as they examined her. Max offered him a smile, inhaling deeply before turning towards the group as a whole.

"How was class? Did I miss anything big?" she asked, ignoring any profound conversations with Harry for the moment.

"Nope," Hermione responded. "Where were you?"

"Oh," Max breathed; she hadn't thought of any good excuses yet. So, with nothing else to lose, she simply told the truth. "My dad wanted to talk to me. He's…well it's tough between us right now. I don't want to talk about it."

"Alright then," Hermione retorted, returning back to her food. Max hadn't realized her voice had sounded so fast and uneasy. She blushed, looking down. Harry chuckled lightly, rubbing his hand along Max's back.

"We'll talk later," he promised her, and then proceeded to join his friends in conversation. Max stayed silent the whole time, though she kept a pleasant appearance on her face. Sometimes it was very interesting listening to Gryffindor conversation. The dynamic was so different from her own usual Slytherin ways; she had too take a moment to breath it all in occasionally.

Dinner went by painfully slow, and near the end Max began to fidget in impatience. She wanted to talk to Harry about what she had learned. There were so many thoughts going on inside her head, and so many feeling she couldn't explain. Lately Max felt like there was so much inside of her she couldn't release. Max didn't even realize when she let out a long sigh.

"Um, I have to use the restroom. I'll talk to you guys later," Max blurted, abruptly standing up. She just couldn't handle being in the warm, buzzing place any longer. She needed some release; mindless chatter could only entertain for so long. Max strode quickly towards the main entrance of Hogwarts, stepping just outside and sitting down on the steps.

Max groaned, holding her hands up and letting the brisk breeze hit her body. She glowed for a moment, before the green seeped out of her skin and faded into the air. Max relaxed, resting her muscles as she watched some ants crawl along the steps. Then, without really thinking about it, she pointed her finger at them and begin a game of _try and hit the most ants before they all get smart and run away. _

After about five minutes Max was started by the doors behind her opening and closing. Immediately she stopped her magic, turning around in alarm only to find an amused looking Harry. She narrowed her eyes.

"You're crazy, did you know that?" he mused, sitting down beside her. Max laughed bitterly, staring down at her feet.

"I think it's pretty obvious by now."

"Just watched you do that…it's like nothing I've ever seen before. Max, you're amazing," Harry told her, his eyes sparkling with life. Max shook her head in disbelief.

"You're the only one that thinks so."

"I take it your father didn't have anything nice to say?" Harry assumed, sighing pathetically.

"He talked about my mother," Max said slowly, blinking. "And now I understand…everything."

"Like what?" Harry prodded, curious. Behind Max there were so many secrets, and he was dying to know at least one of them.

"My mom had this weird faerie blood running through her that only transferred through females. That's why my dad wanted a boy and that's why everything's the way it is. This is the magic," Max explained, laying out her hands. Harry didn't respond, stretching his own palms out and placing them plat on Max's.

"Anyone who rejects this is stupid," he decided, lacing his fingers and letting his hand cover hers. "There is so much more to you than this, and I know it."

"Thank you, Harry," Max mumbled, closing her eyes. "Thank you for seeing that, because I think you're the only one."

"What do you mean?" Harry couldn't help himself from asking. He was always so desperate to understand Max, a phenomenon he'd never been able to. She was everything he'd never experienced before, and everything he wanted to know. He'd been sucked in by her magic, but he couldn't bring himself to care. She made him forget everything he never wanted to forget about in the first place.

When Harry was with Max he forgot about all that he was obliged to do for the world. He forgot about Voldemort and Death Eaters, about school and homework, about friends and logic. Because of this he forgot about who Max really was, and the background she had. At first he'd been so hesitant to share information with her because of who he knew she could be working for. He didn't know how, but somehow he'd forgotten his concerns. He didn't even think about all the dangers being with Max caused.

Somewhere along the line Harry had learned to trust Max Connors, and he had a feeling there was no going back from that. She wasn't the type of person one could just give up, despite all the reasons that told him to do so.

"Everyone is always asking things of me, Harry," Max told him quietly, sniffling in the cold. Harry wasn't sure if she was crying or not, but he didn't have the courage to ask. "Everybody wants me to be somebody and sometimes I just wonder why me isn't enough."

"You are enough," Harry assured her without a second thought. He hated the world for lying to her like it did, especially those she'd once held close. Harry knew how much she used to care about what her family and peers thought about her. Other people's view on herself made up who Max was for the longest time. Growing out of that couldn't be something easily done. Harry intended to help her, though. He could save her from this; he knew he could.

"You make me believe I am," she hummed in the moonlight, smiling lightly. "Where would I be without you?"

"You'd do fine no matter what, Max," Harry told her honestly. He had no doubt that there was greatness inside Max, and if only she let herself find it she could be more than anything he'd ever imagined-anything _anybody_ had ever imagined. She could wow the world with all of the power inside of her.

Max didn't respond to him, her mind becoming lost in itself. She'd like to believe everything Harry was telling her was true, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't understand how Harry could see so much good in here when all she could see was the bad. Sometimes, though Max didn't like to focus on it, it was hard to handle all the guilt that came with what she was doing. There was no way to please both sides.

Max desperately wanted to be a good friend to Harry, if not a good girlfriend. She wanted to share herself with him, be honest and truthful in what she was doing. Yet, she could never accomplish this. Even if he didn't know it Max knew the truth behind the reasons she started speaking with him. The mission she was on could not be ignored, and it was a constant thorn in Max's side to think about it.

Max did spend hours thinking about the mission. She wasn't quite sure what she was supposed to be doing anymore. It was becoming difficult to extract the information she needed, mostly because she didn't know what she was looking for. In all honestly, she didn't care to find out. When she was around Harry she almost forgot about Voldemort and the mission. She couldn't seem focus on the task at hand, and instead found herself lost in all that was them.

Maybe, though it hurt to admit it, Draco _was_ right. She did feel something for Harry; he had become important to her. She'd found herself more honest with him than anybody she'd ever known, excluding the single reason behind their friendship. Some say you can't base a relationship on a lie, but Max couldn't think of a way to base one off truth. There were too many things she couldn't say.

As one might expect, the closer Max became with Harry the further she drifted from Draco. As much as Max told herself it was important to be close with Draco, she couldn't bring herself to connect with him in the same way she did with Harry. Now that she knew what a real relationship was supposed to look like she couldn't go back to whatever she and Draco had.

She felt horrible about it, though. Even though they'd both agreed to what they were doing, Max felt like she was cheating on Draco. She wasn't supposed to like Harry like this, even just a little bit. Max was supposed to hate Harry from the very beginning, and every step she took in his direction was betrayal towards Draco and the Dark Lord. She wasn't be careful enough. Harry was making her let go, and that was not something Max could afford.

It wasn't something she could change, either. She was trapped, walking around in circles and getting nowhere. It was unending, yet unchangeable.

Overall, Max knew she could never share her strange new power with anybody else, not even her boyfriend. It was a scary thought, one she shouldn't even be thinking, but she knew Harry was the only person she could trust with this. That should have told her something, but Max had blinded herself too much to see it. She'd ignored all the warning signs, and because of it she would pay in the end.


End file.
